Cloaked in Secrecy: II
by KeshaRocks
Summary: It's been three years since Libby and Diamond spoke. And when fate brings them back together, they are completely different. Diamond has departed from her bloodied past, and Libby is Skyrim's feared assassin. But one terrible night, the secrets they've been keeping leads to an unspeakable tragedy. And as their world shatters, they'll be forced to decide their loyalties.
1. Prologue

The smell of the sewer is more purified now as Libby secures her black leather vambraces of her Nightingale uniform. She tries to ignore the poking of her many thin daggers hidden beneath them as she adjusts the leather plackart over her vital organs. Then she secures her pauldrons around her shoulders before swopping her long black cape and clasping it around her shoulders.

It's taken long, grueling months, but the Guild is finally back on its feet, with powerful clients in Whiterun, Markarth, Riften, Winterhold, and Solitude. Few long ears, and everyone in all of Skyrim have fallen under the fear of the Thieves Guild. Whispers on the street drift between people when they speak, guards are so easily bought now, and they practically walk down the streets with the freedom of a Jarl.

Her guild members are now rolling in gold, and a statue has since been erected of the beautiful mother Nocturnal, and placed in one of the few pews of the Cistern. Through the months, her Guild is once again rich, feared, and respected.

Libby stares into the long mirror situated behind her panel designed to block off her bed from the rest of the Guild, as privileged by her being entitled Guild Master. Well, not yet, but after today her title will be official.

The past few years have been hard on Libby but it's all worth the blood and sweat and tears to see how it's progressed.

The Guild has been struggling for years and years before, while she was still a young girl. Gallus, her father and former leader of the Guild was murdered and betrayed by his former companion, Mercer Frey, who before Libby, was the Guild Master.

Mercer had spent years stealing from the Guild, and only when Libby had worked with Gallus's other companion and lover, Karliah, did Mercer finally get the death he deserved, and Libby could avenge the death of her father. Karliah had been banished from the Guild and hunted when Mercer framed her for Gallus's murder. But that didn't stop Libby from trusting her completely, and plotting with her for many months to expose Mercer. And in the end of it all, in the Twilight Sepulcher, did Libby manage to see her father, say to him all the words she had so desperately wanted to all of those years.

How she missed him so; but she smiles as she stares at herself in the mirror, thinking – hoping, that he would be proud. She had walked out of there lighter and empowered.

Her father had been a Nightingale, a small inner circle of thieves belonging to the Guild, said to be legend. And once Libby had redeemed the trinity with Karliah and Brynjolf, blessed with the guidance and Nocturnal, did the three of them gain special abilities entitled to the Trinity by Nocturnal.

Libby sighs as she runs a brush across her scalp. Her somewhat shorter hair is the least of the changes.

She is flushed with color, her eyes bright and clear, and though she's gained weight through the winter, her face is leaner, her body fitted into the womanly figure she's earned at the age of twenty-two. A woman – a woman is smiling back at her beautiful for every scar and imperfection and mark of survival, beautiful for the fact that the smile is real, and she feels it kindle the long-slumbering joy in her heart.

Fixating a belt of daggers, and two long knives, an ebony sword, made from the blacksmith parked outside of the Flagon brought on by Libby's flow of gold and clients, she doesn't bother to braid her hair down her back, letting is cast along her shoulders and down to the middle of her flowing black cloak. Her bangs fall graciously across her forehead and covering the corner of her left eye.

As she adjusts her mask around her neck, she hears the crunching of stone behind her. She turns to find Brynjolf with his arms crossed and dressed in his Guild uniform. His hood covers his face, but Libby can still picture the long dirtied red hair that reaches his jawline, and the gorgeously green eyes beneath the shadows obscuring his face.

Brynjolf has always been the Second on Command and even when offered to become a more suitable leader of the Guild, he graciously declined as he said he never cared for it. With the death of her father, of whom he knew very well, Brynjolf had always been a father figure to her, and when he had discovered Libby wandering the streets of Riften, about to pickpocket him, he had taken Libby in and claimed her the heir and his protégé.

Libby smiles at him, her teeth white and a feminine giggle at her lips. "Your father would be proud, lass." He says with his exotic accent. He approaches Libby as she finishes adjusting her Nightingale sword, and heirloom of her father given to her by Karliah. Libby has to tilt her head up to look at him and Brynjolf brushes his callus knuckles against her cheek. Libby smiles, and one step closer brings her to rest her head against the broad chest of the Nord and she feels him embrace her instantly. "You look as deadly as you do stunning."

Libby feels her heart ache. For years prior to the Guild, she has kept a secret from them. Even far more mind blowing than when she had faked her own death and emerged a Nightingale. It was her own little title that she savored greatly. A form of release from the rules of the Guild, as well as her, near healthy way to maintain her rage from whatever happens in her life.

Her tutelage under the Faceless has helped her crawl her way to Zusa's second in command as well as her favor. Earning her the title, of Skyrim's Assassin. Though the name tends to be traded between that or The Assassin of the Rift. Libby didn't care; a catchy title wasn't exactly her biggest concern at the time.

She wants to tell Brynjolf, but not yet. She will at the Ceremony. It's only fair, and then the worst they can do is revoke her Guild Master title and exile her from the Guild entirely. Not that she would argue. She deserved it. If she wanted to, she would demand far more severe punishment.

She takes a step back and turns to adjust her cloak one last time. "I'll meet you in the Cistern." She says. She still sees Brynjolf, and his features soften to slight worry. Libby turns to him and with furrowed brow. "What's wrong?"

Brynjolf folds his lips in and sighs through his nose. "Are you all right, lass? Honestly?"

Libby's heart instantly jumps a beat, and she can feel it crackle and turn to stone, small fissure spreading across it. She knows what he means.

Gods, she can still she her glimmering blonde hair, tipped with pink. Her stunning, striking eyes with a brilliant ring of gold around them. She was blessed with a handful of attractive features that contemplate for the majority of average ones. She'd be Libby's age by now.

It feels as if it's been eons since Libby had last spoken to Diamond. The mere thought of her makes Libby's chest ache, and her heart beats faster from grief.

Their lifelong friendship had ended cruelly, horribly, and miserably. Libby had been indoctrinated into the Faceless, had helped them plot against the Dark Brotherhood, not even once arguing for the sake of her friend. Why? Because Libby was more concerned with how Zusa, the cruel yet unworldly beautiful leader, would've done to Libby or Diamond in the process of objection.

Diamond wouldn't have understood. Or maybe she would have, and Libby was just too imprudent to see that.

Libby always compares it to how Mercer had betrayed her father, and the amount of disgust that comes hurling with it – describing it as disgusting is a severe understatement. For years she resented the man, and there she was, being exactly like him, doing exactly as he did, the only difference if that Diamond is still alive.

But at what cost? She's lost her lifelong home. Her leader murdered by her own hands. And then Libby betraying her and being the harbinger of it all as she so willfully gave Zusa and the Faceless Diamond's information.

Even when Diamond was held prisoner in the Faceless headquarters, Libby couldn't do anything that would correlate that they knew one another. It would only endanger them both. Two of the Faceless members tried to help Diamond escape, as they didn't believe that Zusa's goal of equality was true.

It should've been Libby. She should've been the one to help her escape. At last if she had to sacrifice herself, her death would've allowed Diamond to live.

Libby takes a deep breath, in through her nose, and out through her mouth. "No, but it's not like I want the pain to go away." She mumbles. Her voice has gotten, deeper, more seductive for a woman of Libby's age and beauty. "I deserve it."

Libby had told them how she and Diamond had a – falling out – to say the least, and how their friendship had ended, and the reaction was, surprising.

Much of the Guild went through the stages similar to that of grief, where they disbelieve it at first, then reach the phase of rage where they would hate Diamond for giving up on such a "loyal and wonderful friend", then to asking Libby if she is okay, Libby being honest and saying no. Despite their rough exterior, or perhaps it's the fact that they're swimming in gold now, but the Guild members were very much supportive. Many offered her worlds of comfort and promises of company should she want it, but Libby mostly consulted with Brynjolf and Vex, as they still treated her the same; knowing that she had enough strength to not need their pity.

Despite her wanting, Libby didn't deserve it, so acted like she didn't want it. she'd let Diamond's words burn through her down to her very soul, where it will be scared into her skin.

_You betrayed me! I lost everything because of you! You took it all away from me, you selfish, conniving_ bitch!

It was true. All of it was true. And she deserved every lashing of Diamond's words like an iron tipped-whip to her back. They had battled one another on the Emperor's ship, and Libby had knocked Diamond unconscious with her own warhammer and swam with the girl to shore where she placed her body out of the reach of the tide, and carefully cleaning her weapons. Before she left, Libby had drawn her Guild's emblem into the sand, though she knew Diamond had probably done everything she could to erase it, at least she saw it.

Libby is still staring at herself when she feels a heavy hand grip her shoulder. "She'll come back, Libby. You two are kindred spirits."

"I doubt it, Brynjolf." Libby mumbles.

"Hey, look at me." Brynjolf tilts Libby's chin so she can gaze into those green eyes that remind Libby of emeralds. "I have faith in you both. The gods would never let a friendship as strong and as palpable as yours go to waste."

"Then it would seem the gods have abandoned me."

Brynjolf cups her cheek. "If you need anything, anything at all . . . don't hesitate to ask." He then kisses the thief's brow. "Now, the time has come to make this official. It's time for you to become out Guild Master."

Libby gives a stiff nod.

"Don't worry, I promise this'll be short and sweet. If you'll just meet us in the center of the Cistern room, we can begin."

With that, Libby smiles and links their arms together. Her black cape whispers against the stones as she and Brynjolf make their way through a short alcove and into the dome-like area of the Cistern.

Members are gathered all around, and Libby can even see Karliah standing at the epicenter, where a crossing of stone bridges connects at the center just below the well that lies in Riften's center Square.

For a silly moment, Libby feels like royalty as she walks in with her arms linked with Brynjolf, all heads of her fellow brothers and sisters in crime turn to her with excitement, admiration and tenderness in their eyes.

Even as she passes Vex onto the center platform, she stops for a moment, wanting a hug. And Vex easily obliges with a smile and a small roll of her eyes to remain in character. Libby stands around the top ranking members, Vex, Brynjolf, Karliah and Delvin.

Shafts of sunlight filter through the crevices of the boarded up well from above. Little specks of dust filter in and out in a delicate dance of smoothness and swaying. Expensive banners designed with the Guild's logo hand in even intervals around the Cistern. Thin waterfalls from other ends of the sewers pour water into the main chamber, and down by the main Vault, where the Guild keeps all of their treasures and money, is a bookshelf and Mercer's old desk, once barren, now filled with papers and rare trinkets. Libby had even managed to collect all twenty-four of the Stones of Baranziah, including the crown of which adorns a simple expressionless head of a stone mannequin.

Brynjolf then clears his throat. "Look, I've never been good at these things, so I'm just going to keep it short." Libby chuckles with a few of the other members. "Being Guild Master means more than just getting a cut of all the loot, it's about being a leader and keeping this rabble in order. With that in mind, I propose that the position of Guild Master should be yours."

Libby smiles widely as he turns his head to the right.

"Delvin?"

"Agreed." He smiles and nods, giving Libby a wink. Libby returns his smile.

"Vex?"

Vex doesn't even turn her head to Brynjolf as she answers. "Sure, why not?"

"Karliah?"

"Absolutely!"

Brynjolf's attention returns to Libby. "Everyone is in agreement, so all I can do now is name you Guild Master and wish you good fortune and long life."

There's a few loner claps, but smiles rein all around the Cistern as the members stare at Libby with pride.

"Also, I want you to take this. It's sort of a tradition around here." Brynjolf hands Libby a gold key with a small sapphire jewel at the base. A thin leather strip loops around as small hole at the very tip. Then he takes a beautiful amulet in the shape that mimics a knot of the Celtics and sets it around Libby's neck.

"Now everyone, get back to work." Brynjolf claps, and after a shared laugh and a couple of clinks of tankards, everyone resumes their positions, safe for patting Libby's shoulders and greeting her with her new title of Guild Master.

Then Libby remembers. "Wait!" she accidentally screeches.

Everyone freezes instantly.

Libby's lip quivers for a split second and her cheeks flush with warmth as her eyes flick around the Cistern. She gathers herself with a deep breath, and stand straight, squaring her shoulders. "I have something to confess. And now that I'm Guild Master, you all have to promise not to get mad."

"Oh my gods you're pregnant." Vex immediately amuses to deflate the tension, and Libby could not be more grateful.

Still, Libby keeps her eyes to the ground, intertwining her fingers. "No, though that would've been better."

"Why do I have a bad feeling about this?" Delvin says.

"Libby," Brynjolf speaks. "just say it. You can trust us."

Libby stares at him for a moment, and she can swear she feels the warm hands of her father grasp her shoulders and breathe with her. She will not dishonor him with lies of blades and assassins. This wouldn't be what he wanted, but she still wished to maintain her title. She had done so well keeping her identity a secret that no one will know who she is. Except that Skyrim's Assassin of the Rift is female.

Libby folds her lips in, swallows once, twice. Then she speaks.

It is hours later that Libby can feel the butterflies in her stomach. Her Guild members reacted well, better than she expected really. They were upset for Libby's secrecy, but were more rather surprised by how Libby had describe her skills and beginning with the Faceless.

Would Diamond be as understanding?

She had told them, _everything_. From her years as a child, to her mother's murder, to her father's, then to her wandering of Skyrim. She tells them about her indoctrination into the Faceless and then her wandering into the Guild. And they don't revoke her title, which is good, and they still accept her. They told her that she'd get a cut out of the prices for at least a week, which was a blessing compared to what Libby thought would be her punishment. Brynjolf even compliments her on her ability to hide the secret for so long, and from the _entire_ Guild.

She now stands in her Nightingale uniform, just outside the council room of Zusa and her top Faceless members. She hadn't been at the Faceless' Headquarters since she had thrown the ebony sword that Zusa had given her in honor of her being entitled the undercover Second in Command.

Libby pushes open the doors and enters the room. She stands in front of Zusa as she sits on a large throne chair similar to a Jarl's, poised on a dais. With her black hood up and her cape flowing behind her, whispering against the floor, the members that stand guard flanking Zusa put their hands to the hilt of their weapons. Libby stops in front of the dais, but she doesn't bow as she has done so many times before.

"Well, this is a pleasant surprise. I was hoping you didn't forget about me." Zusa purrs.

"I need to speak with you." Libby demands, keeping her expression as calm as Zusa's.

"Please, continue." Zusa says with a soft wave of her hand.

Libby lowers her hood and aims her glare straight at Zusa and her finely designed hair as it falls in a thick curtain of curls at her shoulders. "I'm done."

Libby feels triumphant as she catches the slightest hint of surprise flick across Zusa's face so quickly. She blinks a few times before angling her head and lifting it slightly from resting it in her hand. "Excuse me?" she coldly scoffs, still a deadly smile on her face.

"I'm done. Now that I'm Guild Master, I don't need nor do I want anything having to do with your faction anymore. I've made it." Libby snarls. To make more of a statement, she takes the black ring with an amethyst stone off of her ring finger, and tosses it into the air. It hits the red carpet beneath her feet with a quiet thud, bouncing a couple times before spinning down to a stop. "I can pay you back with the rest of the money I earn as a thief. No longer will I be your pawn."

"You'd give up your title as Skyrim's Assassin for a simple thief?" Zusa snarls, her catlike smile fading.

"Only because it's what my father would want. He had his morals." Libby glares.

Brash, foolish fire flares up, and turns her – only for a moment – into that girl again.

Zusa's eyes narrow slightly, and when she smiles at Libby, it is the most horrific thing she'd ever seen. "Oh?"

That foolish fire goes out.

"Well then you should know, Libitania, that I don't take such treason too well."

"How is that treason? At least I had the courtesy to speak to you in person."

"You made an oath."

"And it was a foolish one at that."

The world balances on the edge of a knife, slipping, slipping, slipping.

"You'll regret breaking a deal with me, Libitania."

Libby's blood runs cold.

"I don't like sharing my belongings."

Libby blocks the first dagger with her sword as it comes flying at her head. It ricochets off the metal and Libby is already backflipping as another Faceless guard lunges at her drawing her sword. Libby easily deflects them, tearing her way through them as she feels herself drifting farther and farther. She fears for herself in becoming that one girl she had forever locked away inside herself since the death of her mother.

She should just go, but what would that do? They'll come after her.

More Faceless flood the room as if there had been a silent warning signal. Libby blocks, parries and swipes, carefully maneuvering her way through the throng of purple and black.

Finally, with her uniform becoming moistened with blood, Libby arms herself with a sword in one hand, a dagger the other and she leaps off the body of a fallen member and she is high in the air. Libby raises her weapons as Zusa stares at her, eyes wide, as Libby's weapons rain down.

But suddenly someone tackles Libby from behind and even when Libby crashes into the stairs of the dais, she screams. Shoving off the Faceless member with a knife to the throat, Libby howls even more when someone in the room calls for reinforcements.

Then, she starts laughing when she finds herself surrounded by forty guards, and laughs even more when they call for irons.

She is laughing when she lashes out one last time – one final attempt to slash Zusa's pretty little face. Four more members go down in her wake.

Libby is still laughing when the world goes black and her fingers hit the velvet carpet – barely an inch from Zusa's toes_. _

There is a flurry of motion, and Zusa barks an order to have her on the first wagon out of the city. Then there are hands on her arms and crossbows pointed at her as she is half-dragged out of the room.

Libby is thrown into her dungeon cell for minutes, or hours, or a day. Then more guards come to fetch her, leading her up the stairs, into the sill-blinding sun.

New shackles, hammered shut. The dark interior of a prison wagon. The turn of multiple locks, the jostle of horses starting to walk and many other horses surrounding the wagon.

Through the small window high in the door wall, she and see the capital, the streets she knew so well, the people milling about and glancing at the prison wagon and the mounted guards, but not thinking about who might be inside. The tall tower of the Temple of Mara in the distance, the briny scent of a breeze off the Black Brior Meadery, the splintery wooden buildings and the glittering waters of the cannel.

All passing by, all so quickly.

They pass the Square and she can see the well that sits directly over the Thieves Guild where she had trained and bled and lost so much, the place where Brynjolf and Vex stand, waiting for her to return back.

The game has been played, and she has lost.

Now they come to the looming gates of the city, then they're thrown open wide to accommodate their large party.

Libby can't help but laugh still. Zusa might've think she's won, but truly, Libby has managed to snag another victory.

She had managed to say goodbye.

After she had confessed everything to her Guild members, and after a stern lecture followed by sly compliments, Libby had told everyone, that as her first act of Guild Master, she needs to set things straight. And with the Guild already acquiring all of the information they need about the Faceless through Libby and rumors, their skin tones turned rather pale.

Many offered to go with her, offered to fight and give their lives for her, but Libby demanded they stand down. As Guild Master, they can't disobey. Still, Libby had walked around to everyone, each giving a hug and kind words of departure.

She knew it would scare them as her words mimic those of a warrior about to fall in battle; accepting of her fate. And she did. This way, no one else has to get hurt.

Libby quietly giggles to herself, hugging her knees to her chest, realizing then she only has on a rugged tunic. The shackles feel cold against her wrists, but she still smiles.

She had said her goodbyes.

She had done one last act of defiance against the Faceless, and she will carry that prize to her grave.

As Libitania Desidenuis is led out of the capital, she sinks into a corner of the wagon and does not get up.

* * *

Gods, it is boiling in this useless excuse for a kingdom.

Or maybe it feels that way because Diamond has been lounging on the lip of the terra-cotta roof since midmorning, an arm flung over her eyes, slowly baking in the sun like the leaves of flatbread Whiterun's poorest citizens leave on their windowsills because they can't afford brick ovens.

And gods, she was sick of flatbread. Sick of the crunchy, oniony taste of it that even mouthfuls of water can't wash away. If she never eats another bite of flatbread again, it will be too soon.

Mostly because it is all she's been able to afford when she wandered into Whiterun Hold a week ago and made her way to the capital city of Whiterun. She resorted to swiping the flatbread and wine off vendors' carts since her money ran out, not long after she'd taken one look at the heavily fortified castle, and the elite guards, at the cobalt banners flapping so proudly in the dry, hot wind.

So it has been stolen flatbread . . . and wine. The sour red wine from the vineyards lining the rolling hills around the walled capital – a taste she initially spat out but now very, very much enjoys. Especially since the day she decided that she doesn't particularly care about anything at all.

She reaches for the terra-cotta tiles sloping behind her, groping for the clay jug of wine she had hauled onto the roof that morning. Patting, feeling for it, and then –

Diamond swears. Where the hell is the wine?

The world tilts and goes blindingly bright as she hoists herself onto her elbows. Birds circle above, keeping well away from the white-tailed hawk that has been perched atop a nearby chimney all morning, waiting to snatch up its next meal. Below, the market street is a brilliant loom of color and sound, full of braying donkeys, merchants waving their wares, clothes both foreign and familiar, and the clacking of wheels against pale cobblestones. But where the hell is the –

Ah. There. Tucked beneath one of the heavy red tiles to keep cool. Just where she stashed it hours before, when she climbed onto the roof of the massive indoor market to survey the perimeter of the castle walls two blocks away. Or whatever she thought sounds official and useful before she realized that she would rather sprawl in the shadows. Shadows that have long since been burned away by that relentless Whiterun sun.

Diamond swigs from the jug of wine – or tried to. It is empty, which she supposes is a blessing, because _gods_ her head is spinning. She needs water, and more flatbread. And perhaps something for the gloriously painful split lip and scraped cheekbone she had earned last night in one of the city's inns.

Groaning, Diamond rolls onto her belly and surveys the street forty feet below. She knew the guards patrolling it by now – have marked their faces and weapons, just as she had with the guards atop Dragonsreach. She had memorized their rotations, and how they survey the Gildergreen rotunda.

It has been an entire week since she arrived in Whiterun itself, after leaving behind Solitude and her failed contract of the assassination of the Emperor. Of which she still hasn't collected the reward nor does she care to. She just doesn't care. Hurrying to Whiterun also provided welcome activity after a week of traveling, where she hadn't really felt like doing anything other than lying on the narrow bed on her cramped room at the inn or sharpening her weapons with a near-religious zeal.

There is just nothing left in her, really. Only ash and an abyss.

Though the kingdom of Whiterun itself is a spread of warm, rocky sand and thick forest, growing ever greener as hills roll inland and sharpen into towering peaks. the land around the capital is dry, as if the sun had baked all but the hardest vegetation. Vastly different from the soggy, frozen Empire she left behind long ago.

A land of plenty, of opportunity, where men doesn't just take what they want, where no doors are locked and people smile at you in the streets. But she doesn't particularly care if someone does or does not smile at her – no, as the days wear on, she finds is suddenly very difficult to bring herself to care about anything at all.

Whatever determination, whatever rage, whatever anything she had felt upon leaving the Solitude has ebbed away, devoured by the nothingness that now gnaws at her.

Whiterun, the most esteemed capitol of city; the vibrant heart of Whiterun Hold.

While Whiterun is cleaner than Riften and has plenty of wealth spread between the upper and lower classes, it is a capital city all the same, with slums and back alleys, whores and gamblers – add it didn't take too long to find its underbelly.

On the street below her, three of the market guards pause to chat, and Diamond rests her chin on her hands. Like every guard in this kingdom, each is clad in light armor and bears a shield with the Hold's emblem on it. They certainly seem a good deal more observant than the average Riften sentry – even if they hadn't yet noticed the assassin in their midst. But these days, Diamond knows the only threat she poses is to herself.

Even baking in the sun each day, even washing up whenever she can in one of the city's many fountain-squares, she can still feel Astrid's blood soaking her skin, into her hair. Even with the constant noise and rhythm of Whiterun, she can still hear Astrid's groan as she gutted her in her own Sanctuary as a contract to the Night Mother. And even with the wine and heat, she can still see Libby, beautiful and dark in the Faceless uniform with her hair braided down and pain spreading across her soft features as Diamond had attacked her out of well-deserved anger, from how hollow and dark Diamond is inside.

Diamond tenderly prods her split lip and frowns at the market guards, the movement making her mouth hurt even more. She did deserve that particular blow in the brawl she had provoked in last night's inn – she had kicked a man's balls into his throat, and when he caught his breath, he'd been enraged, to say the least. It was arguably the bloodiest, most brutal brawl she'd ever provoked, until the city guard was called in and she vanished moments before everyone was tossed into the stocks.

And then she decided, as her nose bled don the front of her shirt and she spat blood onto the cobblestone, that she wasn't going to do _anything_. She had lost her warhammer thrice now in card games, only to get it back – by whatever means. A dagger poised to slip between the ribs usually does a good deal more convincing than actual words.

Lowering her hand from her mouth, she observes the guards for a few moments. They don't take bribes from the merchants, or bully or threaten with fines like the guards and officials in Riften. Every official and soldier she had seen so far has been similarly . . . good.

Dredging up some semblance of annoyance, Diamond sticks out her tongue. At the guards, at the market, and the hawk on the nearby chimney, at the castle and the Jarl who lived inside it. She wishes she hadn't run out of wine so early.

A cooling breeze pushes past, bringing with it the spices from the vendors lining the nearby street – nutmeg, thyme, cumin, lemon verbena. Diamond inhales deeply, letting the scents clear her head. The pealing of bells floats down from one of the neighboring mountain towns, and in some square of the city, a minstrel band strikes up a merry midday tune. Libby did love this place.

That fast, the world slips, swallowed up by the abyss that now lives within Diamond. A dead weight presses against Diamond's chest.

Libby. The talented and beautiful thieve of the Thieves Guild. Probably their Guild Master by now. Or at least working her way towards it. Still working as she has been for her entire life. As she was doing the night she had betrayed Diamond for the Faceless and ripped away _everything_ from her. Diamond can still remember their fight.

She still hadn't been able to beat Libby. But she was close. Her strength was not her own that day, and if she had been more in control, she could've sliced Libby's pretty little head right of her shoulders. The most disturbing of all, Diamond would not have felt a shred of guilt or regret.

Perhaps something might've changed in her . . . until that gods-damned day when she had watched as Whiterun's group of heroes, the Companions, had come riding out through the gates of the city, in full view of where she had been sprawled on top of the roof.

It wasn't the sight of him, Kodlack Whitemane with his long silver hair stretching down into a well groomed bearded, his olive skin and band of most trusted warriors, that had stopped Diamond dead. It hadn't been the fact that those warriors are the ones she had spoken to a couple times prior.

No. It was the way people cheered.

Cheered for him, their Harbinger. Adored him, with his dashing smile and his black ebony armor gleaming in the endless sun, as he and the soldiers behind him rode towards the north coast. The Harbinger, was a gods-damned mercenary, and his people _loved_ him for it. Diamond lingered at the top of the roof until he was a speck in the distance.

It has been a week since she's given up her plan and abandoned any attempt to care at all. And she suspected it'd be many weeks more before she decided she was truly sick of flatbread, or brawling every night just to feel something, or guzzling sour wine as she lies on rooftops all day.

But her throat is parched and her stomach is grumbling, so Diamond slowly peels herself off the edge of the roof. Slowly, not because of those vigilant guards, but rather because her head is well and truly spinning. She doesn't trust herself to care enough to prevent a tumble.

She glares at the thin scar stretching across her palm as she shimmies down the drainpipe and into the ally off the market street. It is now nothing more than a reminder of the pathetic she and Libby had promised of being friends forever, and of everything Libby had failed at.

Diamond supposes it's a miracle that she had made it down to the alley, where she shadows momentarily blinded her. She braces a hand on the cool stone wall, letting her eyes adjust, willing her head to stop spinning. A mess – she is a god damned mess. She wonders when she'll bother to stop being one.

The tang and reek of the woman hits Diamond before she sees her. Then wide, yellowed eyes are in her face, and a pair of withered, cracked lips part to hiss. "Slattern! Don't let me catch you in front of my door again!"

Diamond pulls back, blinking at the vagrant woman – and at her door, which . . . is just an alcove in the wall, crammed with rubbish and what has to be sacks of the woman's belongings. The woman herself is hunched, her hair unwashed and teeth a ruin of stumps. Diamond blinks again, the woman's face coming into focus. Curious, half-mad, and filthy.

Diamond holds up her hands, backing away a step, then another. "Sorry."

The woman spits a wad of phlegm onto the cobblestone an inch from Diamond's dusty boot. Failing to muster the energy to be disgusted or furious, Diamond would have walked away had she not glimpsed at herself as she raised her dull gaze from the glob.

Dirty clothes – stained and dusty and torn. Her hair is a tangled mat as she never bothered to redo it since the night the Emperor's ship sank. Not to mention, she smelled atrocious, and this vagrant woman has mistaken her for . . . for a fellow vagrant, competing for space on the streets.

Well. Wasn't that just _wonderful_. An all-time low, even for her. Perhaps it'd be funny one day, if she bothers to remember it. She can't recall he last time she laughed.

At least she can take some comfort in knowing that it can't get worse.

She wanders out from the alleyway and saunters her way down the stone steps into the marketplace. Diamond keeps her eyes on the ground, not even bothering to move out of the way, or utter an apology, or even bothering to dwindle up the slightest care as people bump into her left and right, quietly mumbling casual apologies.

Her hand automatically extends out and she hears the deep groaning of the gates. The sun is shadowed behind some trees, and while she can't see the guards or their kindly nods, she can still feel their gazes burning through her skin as well as the shaking of their heads at her filthy state. If she had the heed, she would've sliced their throats. But what was the point? At least out here she can do whatever the hell she wants rather than sitting in a cramped cell where she'd truly go mad.

She half-walks, half-stumbles down the gravel hills and across the short wooden bridges. Feeling as though she is detaching from herself, as she has so skillfully mastered, Diamond lets her mind wander as she feet begin to move left, right, left, right. An instinct, a habit. She does her best to keep from looking too tipsy, caring enough to not want to attract the wrong kind of attention.

It wasn't until she wanders onto dirtied stone does she find herself about a mile out from Whiterun. The sun haws set, casting the land in shadows, only to be blessed with a full moon to keep the path visible.

Then there's howling in the distance.

Her heart stops as well as her feet. Diamond lifts her head, and a soft breeze causes her hair to tickle her cheek as she carefully turns to observe. The snarling grows louder and a chill runs up her spine. For a moment, Diamond's hand twitches for her dagger, but the sudden thought that this will all be over, that it will _finally_ be over . . .

Diamond lowers her hand as she sees the first get of golden eyes emerge from the bushes. Accompanied by two companions flaking her side, the wolves snarl and growl; the hair on the back of their necks rise and they bare their teeth in hatred.

Despite the buzz in her chest, slowly tickling to the back of her head, Diamond doesn't elicit any reaction. _I lived a good life_.

No, no it wasn't. All the more reason to go.

The wolf slowly starts to prowl towards her, his buddies starting to circle and surround her. Even they work better together than she and that back-stabbing bitch Libby ever did. Diamond still stares ahead at the leader wolf, his teeth shin with his saliva and foam on his tongue.

A deep pulse punches through the void deep within her.

The wolf lunges, and upon a sharp electric shock of her instincts, Diamond's hands flinch to her warhammer and she whacks away the head of the wolf. Before she even watches the dog tumble, she ducks and weaves as another one pounces over her, aiming to sink its teeth into her skull. Whirling her warhammer around, it's head lands in the wolf's stomach, and blood splatters onto her face. The feeling warm and sticky . . . and familiar.

Bile rises at the back of her throat as Diamond clumsily flips backwards, the world tilting and causing her to brace herself on her knee.

_Why_? She thinks to herself.

Diamond whacks away another wolf, severing its head, but two more come to easily replace it. Their leader stands on his feet and snarls, carefully approaching once more.

_Why am I struggling_?_ Why torture myself_?

The wolves all snarl and one leans back on its hunches, ready to pounce. He licks his jaws with his teeth.

_My life has no meaning anymore_.

The wolf's eyes flick with feral.

Her warhammer drops to the ground. Forgotten.

Diamond cries out as those canines pierce the spot between her neck and shoulder, a primal act of aggression – the bite so strong and claiming that she is too stunned to move. The other wolves take their signal and leap for Diamond as well.

He has her pinned against the stone and clamps down harder, his canines digging deep, her blood spilling onto her shirt. Pinned, like the worthless weakling she is.

Useless, pathetic.

The dog shifts, staggering back, his teeth ripping her skin and warmth running down the side of Diamond's neck. The other wolves pounce and seize the opening, their jaws too clamping down on a part of Diamond to render helpless. The ankle, the wrist, her side.

Tears well in her eyes and stream down over the bridge of her nose as she sits there waiting for the dogs to turn her into a carcass. Waiting to be as hollowed out as she feels. She can see her warhammer glinting in the moonlight.

As she feels another piece of skin rip from her flesh, the pain searing its way into every crevice of her senses, and as she assumes that they've found bone, Diamond closes her eyes as she waits for the warmth embrace of death.

But then a whine comes from one of the wolves. She only opens her eyes, but it is in time to see the leader wolf snarling at something, then an even larger mouth clamps down over the dog's head and lifts it. Diamond feels sickly as she watches only its hind legs wriggle and snap back and forth like it's the toy of whatever creature now looms over her. All she can see are humanoid-like hands, but the skin is grey with long ebony black fingernails as long as her middle finger.

Two more large shadows come hurling from the distance, and Diamond catches a glint of ember-gold eyes and more snarling. The creatures are huge. Can it be . . . ?

A werewolf.

Arnbjorn?

The tiniest flicker of hope ignites, only to be extinguished by the darkness of her abyss built of agony. The creatures face off against the wolves, who are fairly coated in blood . . . her blood. They snarl and bark at one another. Then the leader wolf leaps and attacks. One of the werewolves raises a giant clawed hand and swipes at the wolf with such ease it is shaming. Like it's nothing more than a fly swarming around its face. The second werewolf catches the next wolf with one hand, and stabbing the claws of its other hand into the wolf's stomach, yanking it out along with its intestines.

Diamond coughs on the bile in her throat, and that sends searing pain of her wounds racing through her joints. The third wolf turns its head right in her direction, straight into her eyes with ears perked at attention.

_This is it_, she thinks. _Let me die. Let me follow the others_.

The two werewolves easily take care of the wolf pack, smearing their blood along the stone and clamping their powerful jaws around the hounds' necks. Meanwhile the third one approaches Diamond carefully, not like stalking prey, but just as if checking to see if she's dead.

There's a harsh debate between whether she should play dead, or indicate she's alive so that it can kill her.

Still, when the creature is close enough – enough so that Diamond can see the texture of the creatures' black-tipped nose – Diamond's eyes blink, perhaps even widen as she beholds the ember-gold eyes, and the ring of caramel brown around the pupil. The sounds of the slaughter goes on behind them, and the werewolf looks over his shoulder and then turns away to aid the others. Diamond just watches what she can, then to her surprise, one of blood-coated ones walk out of her view. There's the sound of stretching flesh and a hiss on the wind; then the next thing Diamond sees is one of the Companions, the huntress, Aela. The blood on her armor matches the places of the werewolf form before.

So it _is_ true. Arnbjorn had always talked about how the Companions aren't as honorable as claim to be as they have tails and rumors of worshiping the god of the hunt, Hircine, and how they delve in his creations of Lycanthropes. Should anyone find out about that, their reputation as well as faction would be in shambles.

Aela hurries to Diamond with worry in her eyes, but a controlled, calm expression on her face. Diamond doesn't move, but her eyes blink. "Well," Aela sighs, almost sounding bored. "at least you're still alive. Though some of those bites will be irreparable."

There are more sounds of shredding skin, or the sound of skin stitching itself back together. And two more shadows, male appear in the light of Aela's torch that seems to appear out of thin air.

She steps out of Diamond's line of sight, and as she feels the warmth of light, light that she just _knows_ is not from Aela's torch search over her body like a lighthouse, Diamond can feel the pain lesson to an annoying throb. Then her heart jumps when she sees Kodlak with his grey beard and tender eyes kneel in front of her, hovering a hand over her shoulder, careful to avoid her neck.

"Don't worry. You're going to be okay." He coos, his voice is rough but soft sounding like a grandfather talking to a grandchild.

"Her wounds are mostly healed, though I fear for the blood loss she suffered at the hands of those wolves." Another voice, male and sounding younger chimes.

"We'll take her to Danica and we'll leave it to her." Kodlak notions.

Diamond can feel Aela's healing hands leave her, as well as the warmth of her torch making Diamond shiver slightly. She wants to shake her head no, tell them to leave her where she is. But something about the way Kodlak carefully turns Diamond over on her back to inspect her sides.

Diamond carefully feels him wrap his strong arm around her shoulder. The other slides under her knees. He then asks her. "Why did you do that? Why didn't you fight back?" his voice still calm.

Without the strength to lift her head or to resist, Diamond takes a deep breath to ease her throbbing head. "Because I had nowhere else to go, no one else in the world." She murmurs, her voice like gravel.

Kodlak lifts her from the ground and Diamond rests her head on his chest, near the crook of his neck. Beneath his cold armor, a few small specks of blood on his breastplate and gauntlets, Diamond can hear his heartbeat.

"Well not anymore." He then promises. "You have the Companions."


	2. Chapter 1

She has grown accustomed to sounds and smells of the mine: the sound of the metal hitting the stone, the cracks of an iron-tipped whip sounding loudly in the narrow shafts, the screams of those the whipped had cleaved into, the smell of blood both raw and mixed with dirt and dust of stone. The Silver Mines of Cidhna, the home of blood and silver.

As she swings her pickaxe into another chunk of stone, Libiania Desidenius cringes slightly as the handle rubs against the swollen callus of her hand. The thin shoes don't do anything to help her feet either. They're not even shoes, they're simple pieces of leftover fabric that she had wrapped around her feet to try and give some form of padding. And to cover the rattlesnake bite on the heel of her right foot. She received the bite six months after she had arrived to the mine. And she wrapped up the left because her callus was peeling, exposing a nuisance of a blister.

She had noticed the snake just before she gave her next swing. It blended in well with the stone. Its body had overlapping scales that made small black diamonds intermingling with the main red sandstone color. Its head having a few crowded plates over the snout. Its eyes were thin like a cat's, but it wasn't rattling. It simply stared at Libby, still as if it were a statue, the same way Libby would look at _her_ prey when _she_ was a forced to be reckoned with. They stared at one another, sizing each other up. The footsteps of her overseer approached and he shouted to the slaves to keep working, and Libby knew he was staring at her.

Libby didn't listen.

Instead, she was gazing at her chance. Her once chance. The man shouted at her again, his shadow growing larger as he approached Libby. Libby took a step towards the snake, and she extended out her foot. Then it started to rattle. The overseer and a few slaves jumped back, squealing in fear. Libby slowly kept advancing her foot towards its head. One slave girl cried for her to stop, but she was too late. Libby never broke eye contact with the snake, until she felt the harsh pinch of the fangs and the extreme burning as she could feel the venom bleed into her foot. And then darkness. Sweet, blissful darkness.

When she had awoken, her foot immediately started to throb. She hissed in pain and a gentle has was upon her head. A soft shushing from a female, a cold rag on Libby's forehead, the feeling of dirt beneath her hands. She couldn't move her arms or her legs; at least not smoothly. They flop across her body like clubs, and then more gentle hands were keeping her arms down.

When Libby had dared opened her eyes there were a group of Khajiit prisoners around him. As they patted her forehead and fed her food, all within the dark hours of the night, one cat-woman spoke to her in Elsweyr. "You will be alright." She was a pretty young thing – about Libby's age with long chestnut colored hair, and her face smattered with freckles beneath her layers of dirt.

Libby replied in the language, her voice was low and raspy from misuse. How long had she been out? "I don't know whether to thank you, or kill you."

Her Elsweyr wasn't that good at the time, and her pronunciation was horrid. But she understood it enough as her shoulders slacked and she gave a slight shake of her head.

Truth be told, Libby was hoping no one would care. She expected the guards just dumped her body outside of the mass graves that fill on the daily, and those prisoners dragged her back to their little shafts that held their beds.

"When you were bitten," the woman continues in Elsweyr. "after you screamed, you changed, only for a manner of seconds." Libby cringes, trying not to snarl. "Your ears, they stretched and . . . pointed –"

"Enough." Libby demanded. And the Khajiit woman didn't bring it up anymore.

Libby never did thank her that night. And she never got the chance.

A short time after, a cart with the dead body of a woman in it passed the group of slaves as they were heading to mine at dawn to begin work. The head hung out of the cart-tail, the lifeless tongue was slowly dripping with blood, her throat slit open ear to ear; the tail tumbled out from underneath the blanket and the sunken eyes . . .

It was the Khajiit woman with long chestnut hair.

Libby believes it was her; she hopes it was her. For then her troubles would be over. Oh, if the men were more merciful, they would shoot the slaves before they came to such misery.

Some days, Libby wondered if they would have been better off dying on the butchering blocks instead. And if she might have been better off dying that night she'd been captured, too.

As the cart passed, Libby said a little Elsweyr prayer for cat and wished her well.

Wiping her forehead with the back of her hand, Libby frowns as she sees the smears of dirt gathered over the one year of being stuck in this mine. No doubt her forehead is smeared too, not that it matters, she hasn't been in front of a mirror in . . . what feels like forever.

What a shame to see the state of who was Skyrim's most feared and notorious assassin! She was feared! Respected! Maybe even worshiped by other criminals. And how she's been reduced to nothing more than a simple salve among prisoners of war.

Over to her right, the whip cracks loudly, and Libby's head twitches as she haunches into himself. She can still feel the burn of the scars that trail down her back. They look more like the claw marks of some animal, starting from the top of her right shoulder and trailing down across down to her waistline. She'll never forget the feeling of the whip slashing into her skin, spraying blood on the back of her neck and on the jagged rocks on the ground that scraped into her knees.

She swings her axe again and the rock shatters. As she brushes the rocks aside with her foot, the chains around her ankles rattling, she suddenly pauses when she thinks she sees the rocks starting to . . . quiver. She can't watch for long, as she hears the heavy footsteps of her overseer coming towards her. Quickly she raises her pickax and swings again at the unforgiving wall of stone. The steps walk past her.

As she has been for the past year that she has been down here, her mind wanders off as she begins to dig deeper. It helps take her mind off of the pain and agony around her. She can drift off to somewhere that isn't here. She doesn't daydream about distant lands and green fields with normal townsfolk who wave to her happily as they fetch water from a well.

It would only darken her spirit more.

In the light of the lanterns, she sees the glint of gold on her ring finger. The mere sight of it almost makes her start to cry. She chokes on her sob as she tries to make it blur with more swinging. She hasn't allowed herself to even think about what – and who – she had left behind back in Riften. But she can still see his face as clear as day.

The long, coppery read hair stopping at his shoulders, the broad shoulders that connect to strong arms, the emerald color of those eyes that could take Libby away from anything. That gentleness in his soul that would calm Libby whenever she was frightened.

She shakes her head to destroy the image and loosening some dirt that had fallen in her hair.

What would Brynjolf think of her now? Gods – just thinking of his name and Libby's eyes swell. She can't blink them away before they slide down her cheeks.

Libby has wasted way into nothing, like a beautiful rose slowly dying. Her hair has lost its ebony sheen, reduced to a worn-out grey, with ill kept wounds, and her rib bones that shine plainly through. Her knees have knuckles over, and are very unsteady. There is a hopeless look in her now dull eyes, the same as every other salve in the mine; making her one of their own.

Her once toned arms and broad muscles are thin and lank, and fallen in. Several blisters that haven't healed are now swelled; some joints are grown out of shape from hard work.

When the day finally ended, Libby is more than eager to get to her little hay pile with minimal pelts. She turns in her pickaxe and waits in line with the others as the overseers chained shackles to their wrists.

But immediately, Libby notices that her shackles are separate from that of the line of slaves she normally walks with. She looks up to her overseer who approaches Libby with his hand on his sword. "Walk." He commands. And Libby obeys.

She's pulled out of line, the eyes of the other slaves watching her as her normal five guards guide Libby to the entrance to the shaft. When Libby steps over the wooden beam dug into the ground, her heart skips a beat.

Standing outside, with an extra six more guards, is a woman dressed entirely of black.

For the tiniest of a second, it sparks a little hope in Libby, but when the woman turns her head, her features shadowed by the hood, she approaches the assassin with a scowl. Even if it was someone from her old Guild, they would've registered surprise and shock at Libby's state, even if they didn't show relief or happiness. The woman's face is blank, and for it, Libby gives her credit. Behind her, horses and even more guards wait in the light of dusk. Were they the ones who caused the stones to shake?

The woman immediately grabs for Libby's arm, and despite the assassin's urge to jerk away, the last thing she needs it to be beheaded on the spot. The guards are always extra careful around Libby after she had nearly escaped one day.

After six months of being in the mines, Libby had snapped and slaughtered nearly everyone – guard and prisoner alike – as she made a trek to the wall where sentries tried to shoot at her with arrows. Libby was knocked out a record's span from the wall.

"Libiania Desidenius," the hooded woman says. "I am Captain of the Morthal Guard. I need you to come with me."

Suddenly, the sky looms, the mountains pushed from behind, and even the earth swelled to Libby's knees. She hadn't felt fear in a while – hadn't _let_ herself taste fear. When she awoke every morning, she repeated the same words: _Not today_. The words that her former Argonian mentor, Allegro, had taught her when sword fighting. The words that Libby now holds dear to her heart after the death of her mentor, by torture and beheading.

For a year, those words had meant the difference between breaking and bending; they had kept Libby from shattering in the darkness of the mines. Not that she'd let the captain know any of that.

So Libby lets the woman take her arm and lead her away from the mine shafts, past the small wooden buildings where they normally sleep, and towards the white marble building that houses the guards' barracks and the officials of Cidhna Mine.

From what Libby can gather, the woman is rather fit; the armor making her more muscular. She could easily past for a Guild member with her dark clothes and ebony cloak. As they walk towards the buildings, the guards swarming around their front, back and sides, Libby can see flashes of a sword as the cape flows back and forth. It's a deadly weapon despite its gleaming silver pommel carved in the shape of a lion.

They enter the building, and Libby turns her focus on making sure her dirt covered feet don't slide and slip on the floor. Thankfully, the main hall that they're in has a runner carpet, easing her worry. They stride down corridors, up flights of stairs, and around and around until Libby hasn't the slightest chance of finding her way out again.

Or that's what her escort is trying to do. But Libby can easily recognize the one wall with a chip in it, a staircase with the same third step that groans heavily underweight, a hallway with one simple chandelier hanging overhead. As if she would lose her bearings so easily. It is flattering, Libby supposes, even if she doesn't know what is happening, or why she'd been waiting for the assassin outside the mine shaft.

Libby almost feels self-conscious when she realizes that the black leather of the Captain's gloved hand was almost as dark as Libby's dirt covered skin. She's no doubt extremely pale beneath the dirt. The assassin shrugs her shoulders, attempting to get her stiff, filthy tunic to settle properly.

They finally enter the hallway, and it's completely still. Their footsteps are the only sound, but Libby can feel as if the white tiles, to the stifling air, to the stones in the ground are holding their breath.

Libby is tempted to say something to the captain, but she doesn't know what. And truthfully, she doesn't think it'll even be worth it. It's like she is back in the Imperial City, lying on the roof of her mother's mansion with a handful bottles of wine sitting in wait under the terra cotta tiles. She would do almost nothing besides sleeping on that roof, baking in the sunk while drinking herself into a stupor after her mother's death. She has lost her motivation to do anything other than swing her pickaxe into stone. She has reentered that depressive state that she had tried so hard to dig herself out of. And now it's like she's fallen right back down.

They enter a hallway hanging with iron chandeliers. Outside the windows lining the wall, night has fallen; lanterns kindle so bright they offer few shadows to hide in. The tiles makes everything too loudly for him to attack anyone without alerting the entire mine. And she's probably too thin and weak to do anything. Even if her arms can lift a pickax, would they still be as quick and lethal as she was when she was still the Heir of a Master Assassin? Gods, those days feel so long ago.

She still remembers walking the carpeted halls of her mother's mansion in the Imperial City. Her black clothing making her no more than a moving sliver of darkness. She would blend in with every shadow, others would bow to her as she passed, and citizens would cower at the sight of her. She was the best.

But she has other things to think about as they continue their walk. Is she finally to be hanged? Sickness coils in Libby's stomach. She is important enough to warrant an execution from the Captain of the Royal Guard herself. But why bring Libby inside this building first?

Finally, they stop in front of twenty-foot doors that are thick with more marble. They're outlined with gold details that look like vines and tendrils curling and twisting. The handles looking like oversized leaves.

The captain's grip tightens until it hurts. She yanks Libby closer, but Libby's feet seem made of lead and the Captain pulls against her. "You'd rather stay in the mines?" she asks, sounding faintly amused. Her voice was smooth and calculated.

"Maybe if you bothered telling what you're doing I wouldn't be so determined to resist."

"You'll find out soon enough." Libby's palms become sweaty. Yes, she is going to die. It has come at last.

The captain jerks her chin to the two guards and they nod and move to open the doors. Libby cringes as they pull open, and the doors groan, the edges shrieking against the floor and making a high-pitched cry. Compared to the bleakness outside those windows, the opulence feels like a slap to the face. A reminder of how much they profit from her labor.

There's nothing but thick columns on either side of the room, a high ceiling where a single glass chandelier hangs with flickers of fire from the flames.

Libby swallows, but her throat constricts and he gives a small cough. The gold royal emblem embroidered on the breast of black uniforms. These are members of the Royal Family's personal guard: ruthless, lighting-swift soldiers trained from birth to protect and kill. Her knees quake.

Suddenly it feels as if her head is filled with helium and yet set with stones all at once. Libby's faces the room on an ornate cherry wood throne sits a beautiful young man. The assassin's heart stops as everyone bows.

He is standing in front of the Prince of Morthal.

"Your Highness." says the Captain of the Guard. She straightens from a low bow and removes her hood.

Once the hood falls around the woman's shoulders, the world stops.

Quiet.

Everything around him stands really still and really quiet.

The air around Libby has seemed to compress, to grow denser. She can't explain it, but it feels as though the night itself, unnatural in its calmness, has begun to move in on him, to close in tight.

Libby blinks, and blinks, and blinks again. She was so young!

The blonde hair that overlaps on his forehead. Her skin is as golden has her hair. Peeking out behind some strands, Libby can see her ears with a simple black earlobe piercing.

Captain Nox Mareth. She was the number one ranking of the guards and the royal family's personal body guards. Libby remembers when she was in the Jarl's little hub home that Nox was always like a silent and lethal presence in the room. Libby cocks her head, now keenly aware of her wretched dirtiness.

"This is her?" the Prince of Morthal asks, and Libby's head whips around as the captain nods. Both of them stare at her, waiting for her to bow. When she remains upright, Nox shifts on her feet, and the prince glances at his captain before lifting his chin a bit higher.

_Bow to him indeed_! If she is bound for the gallows, she will most certainly not spend the last moments of her life in groveling submission.

"Will you not bow to your future Jarl?" the prince says.

"_You are not my king_." The assassin hisses, baring her teeth.

The next thing she knew, there was a thick and heavy hand on her neck and a vicious kick to her knees that nearly turned her legs inside out. Her face slams into the floor and stars burst before her eyes. She doesn't struggle, merely grunts in pain and clenches her eyes, uncaring of the tears that swell down her cheeks and onto the floor.

She doesn't' care who it is, doesn't care about how the shackles dig into her stomach. She will not bow, she will not break.

If Libby could move her right arm just a few inches, she can throw him off balance and grab his sword . . . The fizzing, boiling rage turns Libby's face scarlet.

After a too-long moment, the Prince speaks. "Enough, Nox. If we wish to acquire Miss Desidenuis' assistance, I don't think forcing her into submission is appropriate."

Libby tries to pivot a free eye to the prince, but she can only see a pair of black leather boots against the white marble floor.

"You and I know very well she has no love for my family. Her heart belongs to that of Riften." he pauses, and Libby could've sworn his eyes fell to her face. "Now let her go." he almost growls in a threatening way . . . to his own captain.

Libby's tormentor grunts and releases her. She peels her cheek from the marble but lies on the floor until the Captain stands. If Libby manages to escape, she will maul the captain for the warmth of her greeting.

As Libby rises, she frowns at the imprint of grit she left behind on the otherwise spotless floor, at the clank of her shackles echoing through the silent room. But she's been trained to be an assassin since her since the age of eight, since the day the Queen of the Assassin's found her half-dead on the banks of a frozen river and brought her to the keep. Libby won't be humiliated by anything, least of all being dirty. Gathering her pride, Libby tucks her shortened hair behind her ear.

Joric Ravencrone, son of Jarl Idgrod smiles at her. It is a polished smile, and reeks of boredom. Sprawled across the throne, he has his chin propped by a hand, his golden crown glinting in the soft light. On the folds of his dark green cloak, an emblazoned ebony rendering of the royal tendrils occupy the entirety of the cape. It then falls gracefully around him and his throne.

Yet there is something in his eyes, strikingly blue – the color of the waters of the southern countries – and the way they contrast with his raven-black hair that makes Libby pause. He is achingly handsome, and can't have been older than twenty.

_Princes are not supposed to be this beautiful. They're sniveling, stupid, repulsive creatures! This one . . . this . . . How unfair for him to be royal and beautiful_.

Libitania shifts on her feet as he frowns, surveying her in turn. "I can see you didn't take the time to clean her, like I asked." he says to Captain Mareth.

Libby looks at her rags and stained skin, and she can't suppress the twinge of shame. What a miserable state for a girl of former beauty!

She had a beautiful, well-kept figure, each part of her rock hard with muscle but still lean and hourglass; feminine. Her eyes were once a mixture of green and brown, giving them their title of hazel, but now . . . somehow as she had aged, the brown has submitted into a ring of gleaming copper around her pupil. Now the green still shines brightly, the colors of emerald like Brynjolf's; like her father's according to Bryn's memory.

But now, standing here before Joric Ravencrone as little more than a gutter rat! Her face warms as Captain Mareth speaks. "I didn't want to keep you waiting."

The Crown Prince shakes his head when Nox reaches for Libby. "Nevermind with it. I can see her potential." The prince straightens, keeping his attention on Libby. "I don't believe we've even had the pleasure of an introduction. But, as you probably know I'm Joric Ravencrone, Crown Prince of Morthal, perhaps now Crown Prince of most of Hjaalmarch."

Libby ignores the surge and crash of bitter emotions that awake with the name.

"And _you're_ the Libitania Desidenuis, Skyrim's greatest assassin. Perhaps the greatest assassin in all of Tamriel." he studies Libby's tense body before he raises his dark, well-groomed brows. "You seem a little older."

He rests his elbows on his thighs. "I've heard some rather fascinating stories about you. How do you find Cidhna after living in such excess in Riften?"

_Arrogant ass_.

Libby's jagged ails cut into her palms. She bites her tongue, deeming this pompous maggot less than worthy of her conversation. She simply narrows her eyes, her body immediately shifting into its predatory feel; where she sizes up her prey and intimidates them easily.

It seems to work on the prince as his throat bobs as he swallows, and he clears his throat. "After a year, you seem to be more or less alive. I wonder how that's possible when the average life expectancy in these mines is a month."

Libby bats her eyelashes and readjusts her shackles as if they are lace gloves.

The prince looks to his captain with raised eyebrows. "Have you given her the order to not speak to me? Or has she lost her ability to understand the common language?"

Libby smiles more when she feels Nox tense behind her. "I have done no such think, Your Highness." She says. "I can assure you she is more than capable of speaking. She's just choosing not to."

Nox's voice grows closer as she takes a step towards the assassin, and Libby can feel the tone in her voice shift to a warning. Maybe even a demand that Libby speaks to the prince. She Libby gives her a mocking smile, and then returns her attention to the prince.

Joric Ravencrone, to her surprise, laughs. "You do _know_ that you're now a slave, don't you? Has your sentence taught you nothing?"

Libby almost wants to speak to them in Elsweyr, turn their heads even more on edge. "Working in a mine can't teach anything beyond how to use a pickax."

"And you never tried to escape?"

A slow, wicked smile spreads across Libby's lips. "Once." She shrugs her shoulders. "Maybe Twice."

The prince's brows rise, and he turns to Captain Mareth. "I wasn't told this."

Libby glances over her shoulder at Nox, who gives her prince an apologetic look. "The Chief Overseer informed me this afternoon that there was _one_ incident. Five months -"

"Six months." Libby interrupts.

"Six months," Nox says. "after Libitania arrived, she attempted to flee."

Libby waits for the rest of the story, but she is clearly finished. "That's not even the best part!"

"There's a best part?" The Crown Prince says, face caught between a wince and a smile.

Nox glares at Libby before speaking. "There's no hope of escaping from Cidhna. The Jarl of The Reach made sure that each of Cidhna's sentries could shoot a squirrel from two hundred paces away. To attempt to flee would be suicide."

"But you're alive." The prince says to Libby.

Libby's smile fades as the memory strikes her. "Yes."

"What happened?" Joric asks.

Libby's eyes turn cold and hard. "I snapped."

"That's all you have to offer as an explanation for what you did?" Nox demands. "She killed her overseer and twenty-three sentries before they caught her. She was a _finger's tip_ from the wall before the guards knocked her unconscious.

"So?" Joric says.

Libby seethes. "So? Do you know how far the wall is from the mines?" he gives Libby a blank look. Libby closes her eyes and sighs dramatically. "From my shaft, it is three hundred sixty-three feet. I had someone measure."

"So?" Joric repeats.

"Captain Mareth, how far do slaves make it from the mines when they try to escape?"

"Three feet," she mutters. "Cidhna sentries usually shoot a man down before he's moved three feet."

The Crown Prince's silence is not Libby's desired effect. "And what was the second time?"

"Well, it's second in my mind." Libby shrugs again. The prince gives a wave of his hand for her to continue. Libby purposely blinks a couple times, and is silent until she sees the Prince sigh in annoyance. "I simply got bitten by a poisonous snake."

"You knew it was suicide." he says at last, the amusement gone.

Perhaps it was a bad idea for Libby to bring up the wall. "Yes." She says.

"But they didn't kill you."

"Zusa Phoenix ordered I was to be kept alive for as long as possible – to endure the misery that Cidhna gives in abundance." A chill that has nothing to do with the temperature goes through her. "I never intended to escape."

The pity in his eyes makes Libby want to hit him.

"Do you bear many scars?" asks the prince. Libby shrugs and he smiles, forcing the mood to life as he steps from the dais. "Turn around, and let me view your back." Libby frowns, but obeys as he walks to her, Nox stepping closer. "I can't make then out clearly through all this dirt." The prince says, inspecting what skin shows through the scraps of Libby's shirt. She scowls, and scowls even more when he says. "And what a terrible stench, too!"

"When one doesn't have access to a bath and cologne, I suppose one cannot smell as finely as you, _Your Highness_."

The Crown Prince clicks his tongue and circles Libby slowly. Nox – and all the guards – watch them with hands on their swords. As they should in less than a second, Libby can get her arms over the prince's head and have her shackles crushing his windpipe. It might be worth it just to see the expression on Nox's face. But the prince goes on, oblivious to how dangerously close he stands from Libby. Perhaps she should be insulted. "From what I can see," he says. "there are a few large scars – and perhaps some smaller ones. It looks like the claws of some giant animal, but, not as awful as I expected."

"Glad you're not disappointed." he is standing so neat that Libby can see the fine thread detail on his jacket, and she smells, not cologne, but horses and iron.

Joric grins. "What remarkable eyes you have! And how angry you are!"

Coming within strangling distance of The Crown Princess of Morthal, Libby's self-control balances on a fragile edge – dancing along a cliff.

"I demand to know," Libby begins, but the Captain of the guard pulls him back from the prince with spine-snapping force. "I wasn't going to attack him, you buffoon."

"Watch your mouth before I throw you back in the mines," the ember-eyed captain says.

"Oh, I don't think you'd do that."

"And why is that?" Nox replies.

Joric strides back his throne and sits back down, his sapphire eyes bright.

Libby looks from the one woman to the prince and squares her shoulders. "Because there's something you want from me, something you want badly enough to come here yourselves. I'm not an idiot, though I was foolish enough to be captured, and I can see that this is some sort of secret business. Why else would you leave the capital and venture this far? You've been testing me all this time to see if I am physically and mentally sound. Well, I know what I'm still sane, and that I'm not broken, despite what the incident at the wall might suggest. So I demand to be told why you're here, and what services you wish of me, if I'm not destined for the gallows."

The two royals exchange glances. Joric steeples his fingers. "I have a proposition for you."

Libby's chest tightens. Never, not in her most fanciful dreams, had she imagined that the opportunity to speak with Joric Ravencrone would arise. She can kill him so easily, tear that grin off his face. . . She can destroy The Reach as they had destroyed her . . .

But perhaps the prince's proposition can lead to escape. If she gets beyond the wall, she can make it. Run and run and disappear into the mountains and live in solitude in the dark green of the wild, with a pin-needle carpet and a blanket of starts overhead. She can do it. She just needs to clear the wall. She has come so close before.

"I'm listening." is all Libby says.


	3. Chapter 2

The prince's eyes shine with amusement at Libby's brashness but linger a bit too long on her body. Libby would've raked her nails down his face for staring at her like that, yet the fact that he even bothered to _look_ when she is in such a filth state . . . A slow smile spreads across her face.

The prince crosses his long legs. "Leave us," he orders the guards. "Nox, stay where you are."

Libby steps closer as the guards shuffle out, shutting the door. Foolish, foolish move. But Nox's face remains unreadable. Nox couldn't honestly believe she can contain Libby if she tried to escape! Libby straightens her spine. What are they planning that would make them so irresponsible?

The prince chuckles. "Don't you think it's risky to be so bold with me when your freedom is on the line?"

Of all the things he could have said, _that_ was what Libby had least expected. "My freedom?" At the sound of the word, she sees a land of pine and snow, of sun-bleached cliffs and white-capped seas, and land where light is swallowed in the velvety green of bumps and hollows – a land that she has forgotten.

"Yes, your freedom. So, I highly suggest, _Miss_ Desidenuis, that you get your arrogance in check before you end up back in the mines." The prince uncrosses his legs. "Though perhaps your attitude will be useful. I'm not going to pretend that my mother's empire is built on trust and understanding. But you already know that." Libby's fingers curl as she waits for him to continue. His eyes meet hers, probing, intent. "It would seem that the Companions, out in Whiterun, are looking for new recruits from what I hear."

It takes a delicious moment for her to understand.

Libby tips her head back and laughs. "You want _me_ to join the Companions? What – don't tell me their Harbinger has managed to eliminate every noble soul out there! Surely there's _one_ chivalrous knight, one lord of steadfast heart and courage."

"Mind your mouth." Nox warns from beside Libby.

"What about you, hmm?" Libby says, raising her brows at the captain. Oh, it is too funny! _Her_ – a Companion! "Our beloved Prince finds you lacking?"

The captain puts a hand on her sword. "If you'd be quiet, you'd hear the rest of what His Highness has to tell you."

Libby faces the prince. "Well?"

Joric leans back in his throne. "I need someone with your particular set of skills, to attack the Companions of Jorrvaskr, in Whiterun."

"I'm well aware of their location."

"Good. Then getting to it won't be hard." The prince says. "I had trained my whole life to join their Guild, but only after a mere week of service did they decide to dispatch me. And I don't take no for an answer."

"So you're sending out me out to do you dirty work of revenge." Libby can easily decline the comparison between the Companions and the Thieves Guild. The Guild is far worse when it comes to tolerance and recruiting, but if the Companions hold honor to a fault, Joric must've done something _really_ bad to get kicked out. Or perhaps his 'terms of service' weren't as honorable as he had deemed.

A smile tugs on Joric's lips, but he keeps his face straight. "Yes. Though I'm sure plotting secret revenge isn't much of a stretch for you at all. I want you to _humiliate_ them. Tarnish their reputation, and make them seem like the absolute worst guild there is in all of Skyrim. And just as you've run that, and their pathetic members into the ground, _kill_ their Harbinger. Do so, and you will then be greatly rewarded."

To work for this man as his loyal servant. Libby raises her chin. To kill for him – to be in the mouth of a man who has consumed nearly all of Hjaalmarch . . . "And if I accept?"

"Once the Companions have been dealt with, you will be sent out to Riften. Then, after six years of service, I'll have the Jarl grant you your freedom."

"Six years!" But the word "freedom" echoes through her once more.

"If you decline," Joric says, anticipating her next question. "you'll remain in Cidhna Mine." His sapphire eyes become hard, and Libby swallows. _And die_ is what he doesn't need to say.

Six years as the Jarl of Riften's dagger . . . or a lifetime in Cidhna Mine.

Riften, beautiful, gorgeous, seaside Riften with its smell of fish in the canals, the sun bathing her skin in the Square. Brynjolf. Vex. Karliah. Her _Guild_. She can go home. And if Maven Black Brior is Jarl . . . then the prince is just sending her on her way back. For the most part, at least Maven trusts Libby; there's really no word to describe her relationship with Maven; to say she likes Libby is probably an overstatement. But gods, her power in Riften. She holds more than the Jarl, and if she is one . . .

With the Guild's influence on Riften . . .

"However," the prince says, "I have more to offer." Libby keeps her face neutral as he toys with a ring on his finger. "Seeing as how your array of skills settles on the line of stealth, I have a particular armor set that will have you become a Champion."

"I am one's champion only; but no one's lackey." Libby says.

"Ah," the prince smiles devilishly. "But it's not just _my_ Champion you'd be . . . but a Daedra's."

Libby's blood runs cold. Daedra? The race of powerful supernatural entities that inhabit the planes of Oblivion. Although they are generally not bound to the physical world, they were capable of manifesting within the mortal plane of Mundus. They are well-known to the inhabitants of Tamriel, where they are feared by some and worshipped by others.

Though she has seen and lived and worships Nocturnal for her Guild, to become another one's Champion . . . would there be costs? Do Daedra tolerate sharing a Champion?

Daedra are frequently referred to as "demons", although such a label ignores the fact that not all Daedra are malevolent by nature. Daedra do wield tremendous destructive power, however, and are frequently associated with death, ruin and chaos. Scholars are quick to point out that the characterization of Daedra as "evil" is a gross oversimplification. Many appear in many different forms.

The most important are the Daedric Princes, powerful spirits who can shape-shift. There are also "lesser Daedra" beings known to be in league with these greater powers.

Amongst the majority of Tamriel's populace, the Daedra are seen as naturally evil, as many concepts of evil are directly relative to the mortal world. Most Daedra cause disorder and chaos, which are generally not beneficial to mortal affairs. In many provinces where the human population dominates, (such as Cyrodiil), Daedra are considered outright evil, and Daedra worship is outlawed. Though this has not stopped cults of Daedra worship from popping up across Tamriel, and in some locations their worship is accepted, or at least tolerated.

"Should you win his heart," the prince says with a half-smile. "you'd _officially_ be Skyrim's Assassin."

Libby doesn't return his smile. "Why exactly would I need the help of _another_ Daedra? If you were confident in my skills, you wouldn't make the offer."

Seeing her expression, the prince's grin fades. "I'm well aware of your skillset blessed by Nocturnal, as well as your title of Guild Master _and_ the Guild's praise of the Lady of the Shadows." She opens her mouth, but the prince cuts her off. "So the worshipping of Daedra shouldn't be _too_ much of a stretch."

Libby sighs. "So which Daedra will I be wooing? And what is this special gift, _if_ I'm deemed worthy?"

A smile dawns on the prince's lips. He shifts his fingers to slide the ring up his finger and rotates it in a circle. "You will be winning the favor of the Daedra Prince, Boethiah.

Libby's blood turns to ice and she can feel her heart fly back against her ribs before sinking into her stomach. Boethiah? The Daedric Prince of deceit, conspiracy, treachery and sedition. Perhaps he _is_ more fitting for her than Nocturnal. But oh gods. A _Prince_! Not some lower level, but a prince of the Oblivion realm!

He is a major Daedra in regards to the Dunmer, both in positive and negative veneration. A violent Daedric Prince Boethiah is, known for his enjoyment in the suffering of mortals.

"And as a reward, you will be donned in the proud, Ebony Mail." Libby quirks and eyebrow and innocently as she can, cocks her head in curiosity. "The Ebony Mail is one of the most powerful cuirasses known. If judged worthy, its power grants the wearer invulnerability to most common magical attacks and forms of drain health."

"How?" Libby says, taking an unknown step closer, causing the Captain of the Guard to grip her tighter.

The prince shrugs. "Your understanding of the Daedra is as god as mine. Perhaps your questions will be answered once you have it on."

Libby barely hears his last few words. A Daedra's Champion! Could she really be the Champion of two demonic princes?!

"But none of that will matter if the moment I wear it, it completely eradicates my sanity. Also, in case young hadn't noticed, I'm not exactly in my _best_ shape to go tracking down some thieves." Libby snarls.

"Then you're lucky that we've taken the liberty to tracking them down for you. I've already offered you to the Daedra Prince as Champion, and he agreed once he had recollected your past. He said he found you . . . fitting."

Libby feels a shiver run down her spine at the thought of the power the Daedra holds in order to recollect her entire lifespan. Though, on the bright side, at least she won't have to waste her time deceiving. Though, no man in his right mind would _dare_ lie to a Daedra.

"Even if I'm honored to obtain, I'm still in no shape for it." Libby reminds for a second time.

"Our travels back to Solitude will take about two week, if within that time, we can feed you and help you train to give back that body you need." The prince chuckles. "I don't suppose you heard about what happened after your trial."

"News is rather hard to come by when you're slaving in a mine."

He chuckles again, shaking his head. "No one knows that Libitania Desidenuis is just a young woman – they all thought you were much older."

"I'm twenty–two." Libby says, her face flushing. "How is that possible?" She should be proud that she had kept it hidden from most of the world, but . . .

"You were nineteen at the time."

"What does it matter?"

"You kept your identity a secret all the years you were running around killing everyone. After your trial, the Jarls thought it would be . . . wise not to inform the rest of the Tamriel who you are. They want to keep it that way. What would our enemies say if they knew we had all been petrified of a girl?"

"So I'm slaving in this miserable place for a name and title that don't even belong to me? Who does everyone think Skyrim's Assassin _really_ is?"

"I don't know, nor do I particularly care. But I _do_ know that you were the best, and that people still whisper when they mention your name." He fixes Libby with a stare. "If you're willing to fight for me, to be _my_ Champion during the months the contract will go on, I'll see to it that the Jarl of Riften frees you after _five_ years."

Though he tries to conceal it, Libby can see the tension in his body. He wants her to say yes. Needs her to say yes so badly he is willing to bargain with her. Libby's eyes begin glittering. "What do you mean, '_were_ the best'?"

"You've been in Cidhna Mine for a year. Who knows what you're still capable of?"

"I'm still capable of quite a lot, thank you." Libby says, picking at her jagged nails. Perhaps reminding him constantly of her malnourished state wasn't the best idea either. She tries not to cringe at the dirt beneath them. When was the last time her hands had been clean?

"That remains to be seen." The Prince says. "You'll be healed and cared for once we get to Solitude. I'll see to it we have healers that can hopefully add some weight back onto you. Then you can retrieve the Ebony Mail and assume your place as Boethiah's Champion."

"It'd be a miracle if you can find healers that can do that. Despite the amount of fun you nobles have betting on us, why go through with having to retrieve the Ebony Mail? Why don't you have it if you've already contacted his Daedric Prince?"

"As I just said, you must prove yourself worthy."

Libby puts a hand on her hip, and her chains rattle loudly through the room. "Well, I think being Skyrim's Assassin exceeds any sort of proof you might need."

"Yes," Nox says, her bronze eyes flashing. "it proves that you're a criminal, and that we shouldn't immediately trust you with the Jarl's private business."

"I give my solemn oa –"

"I doubt that the Jarl would take the word of _Skyrim's Assassin_ as bond."

"Yes, but I don't see why I have to go through the training and the healing. I mean, I'm bound to be a bit . . . out of shape, but . . . what else do you expect when I have to make do with rocks and pickaxes in this place?" She gives the Captain a spiteful glance.

Joric frowns. "So, you won't take the offer?"

"Of course I'm going to take the offer," Libby snaps. Her wrists chafe against her shackles badly enough that her eyes water. "I'll be your absurd Champion if you agree to free me in three years, not five."

"Four."

"Fine." Libby says. "It's a bargain. I might be trading one form of slavery for another, but I'm not fool."

She can win back her freedom. Freedom. She feels the cold air of the wide-open world, the breeze that sweeps from the mountains and carries her away. She can live far from Skyrim, the capital that has once ben her realm.

"Hopefully you're right." Joric replies. "And hopefully, you'll live up to your reputation. I anticipate winning, and I won't be pleased if you make me look foolish."

"And what if I fail?"

The gleam vanishes from his eyes as he says. "You'll be sent back here, to serve out the remainder of your sentence."

Libby's lovely visions explode like dust from a slammed book. "Then I might as well leap from the window. A year in this place has worn me through – imagine what will happen if I return. I'd be dead by my second year." She tosses her head. "Your offer seems fair enough."

"Fair enough indeed." Joric says, and waves a hand at Nox. "Take her to her rooms and clean her up." He fixes her with a stare. "We depart for Solitude in the morning. That way you'll have proper nourishment. Morthal isn't exactly the most populated place for someone in need of regaining strength. Don't disappoint me, Desidenuis."

It is nonsense, of course. How difficult can it be to outshine, outsmart, and then obliterate the previous champion of Boethiah? Libby doesn't smile, for she knew that if she does, it will open her realm of hope that has long been closed. But still, she feels like seizing the prince and dancing. She tries to think of music, tries to think of a celebratory tune, but can only recall a solitary line from the mournful bellowing of the Cyrodiil work songs, deep and slow like honey pours from a jar. "_And go home at last_ . . ."

She doesn't notice when Captain Mareth leads her away, nor does she notice when they walk down hall after hall.

Yes, she will go – to Whiterun, to anywhere, even through the Gates of Sovngarde and into Hell itself, if it means freedom.

_After all, you aren't Skyrim's Assassin for nothing_.

When Libby finally collapses onto a bed after her meeting in the throne room, she can't fall asleep, despite the exhaustion in every inch of her body. After being roughly bathed by brutish servants, the wounds on her back throb and her face feels like it has been scrubbed to the bone. Shifting to lie on her side to ease the pain in her dressed and bound back, she runs her hand down the mattress, and blinks at the freeness of movement. Before she had gotten into the bath, Nox had removed her shackles. She felt everything – the reverberations of the key turning in the lock of her irons, then again as they loosen and fell to the floor. She can still feel the ghost chains hovering just above her skin. Looking up at the ceiling, she rotates her raw burning joints and gives a sigh of contentment.

But it is too strange to lie on a mattress, to have silk cares her skin and a pillow cradle her cheek. She had forgotten what food other than soggy oats and hard bread tastes like, what a clean body and clothes can do to a person. Now it is utterly foreign.

Though her dinner hadn't been _that_ wonderful. Not only was the roast chicken unimpressive, but after a few forkfuls, she dashed into the bathroom to deposit the contents of her stomach. She wants to _eat_, to put a hand on a swollen belly, to wish that she'll never eat a morsel and swear that she will never eat again. She will eat well in Solitude, won't she? And, more importantly, her stomach will adjust.

She has wasted away to nothing. Beneath her nightgown, her ribs reach out from inside of her, showing bones where flesh and meat should have been. And her breasts! Once well-formed, they are now no larger than they'd been in the midst of puberty. A lump clogs her throat, which she promptly swallows down. The softness of the mattress smothers her, and she shifts again, lying on her back, despite the pain it gives her.

Her face hasn't been much better when she glimpsed it in the washroom mirror. It is haggard: her cheekbones are sharp, her jaw pronounced, and her eyes slightly, but ever so disturbingly, sunken in. Libby takes steadying breaths, savoring the hope. She'll eat. A lot. And exercise. She can be healthy again. Imagining outrageous feasts and regaining her former glory, she finally falls asleep.

When Nox comes to fetch her the next morning, she finds Libby sleeping on the floor, wrapped in a blanket. "Desidenuis," she says. Libby makes a mumbling noise, burying her face farther into the pillow. "Why are you sleeping on the ground?" Libby opens an eye. Of course, the captain doesn't mention how different Libby looks now that she is _clean_.

Libby doesn't bother concealing herself with the blanket as she stands. The yards of fabric they call a nightgown covers her enough. "The bed was uncomfortable," she says simply, but quickly forgets the captain as she beholds the sunlight.

Pire, fresh, warm sunlight. Sunlight that she can bask in day after day if she gets her freedom, sunlight to drown out the endless dark of the mines. It leaks in through the heavy drapes, smearing itself across the room in thick lines. Gingerly, Libby stretches out a hand.

Her hand is pale, almost skeletal, but there is something about it, something beyond the bruises and cuts and scars, that seem beautiful and new in the morning light.

Libby runs to the window and nearly rips the curtains from their hanging as she opens them to the gray mountains and bleakness of Cidhna. The guard positioned beneath the window doesn't glance upward, and Libby gapes at the bluish-grey sky, at the clouds slipping on their shoes and shuffling towards the horizon.

_I will not be afraid_. For the first time in a while, the words fall true.

Her lips peel into a smile. The captain raises an eyebrow, but says nothing.

Libby is cheerful – jubilant, really – and her mood improves when the servants coil beneath her braided hair onto the back of her head and dresses her in a surprisingly fine riding habit that conceal her miserably thin form. She loves clothes – loves the feeling of silk, of velvet, of satin, of suede and chiffon – and is fascinated by the grace of seams, the intricate perfection of an embossed surface. And when she wins the favor of this Daedra prince, and kill the Harbinger of the Companions, when she is free . . . she can buy all the clothes she wants.

Libby laughs when Nox, irked at how Libby stands in front of the mirror for five minutes, admiring herself, half-dragged her out of the room. The budding sky makes her want to dance and skip down the halls before they enter the main yard. However, she falters as she beholds the mounds of bone-colored rock at the far end of the compound, and the small figures going in and out of the many mouthlike holes cut into the mountains.

Work has already begun for the day, work that will continue without her when she leaves them all to this miserable fate. Her stomach clenching, Libby averts her eyes from the prisoners, keeping up with the captain as they head to a caravan of horses near the towering wall.

Yapping fills the air, and three black dogs sprint from the center of the caravan to greet them. They are each sleek as arrows – undoubtedly from the Crown Prince's kennels. Libby kneels on one knee, her bound wounds protesting as she cups their heads and strokes their smooth hair. They lick her fingers and face, their tails slashing the ground like whips.

A pair of ebony boots stop before her, and the dogs immediately clam and sit. Libby lifts her gaze to find the sapphire eyes of the Crown Prince of Morthal studying her face. He smiles slightly. "How unusual for them to notice you." He says, scratching one of the dogs behind the ears. "Did you give them food?"

Libby shakes her head as the captain steps behind her, so close that her knees graze the holds of Libby's forest-green velvet cape. It will take all of two movements to disarm him.

"Are you fond of dogs?" asks the prince. Libby nods. Why is it already so hot? "Am I going to be blessed with the pleasure of hearing your voice, or have you resolved to be silent for the duration of our journey?"

"I'm afraid your questions didn't merit a verbal response."

Joric bows low. "Then I apologize, my lady! How terrible it must be to condescend to answer! Next time, I'll try to think of something more stimulating to say." With that, he turns on his heel and strides away, his dogs trailing after him.

Libby scowls as she stands. Her frown deepens when she discovers the Captain of Guard smirking as they walk into the fray of the readying company. However, the unreadable urge to splatter someone across a wall lessens when they brings her a piebald mare to ride.

She mounts. The sky comes closer, and is stretches forever above her, away and away to distant lands she's heard of. Libby grips the saddle horn. She is truly leaving Cidhna Mine. All those hopeless months, those freezing nights . . . gone now. Libby breathes in deeply. She knew – she just knew – that if she tries hard enough, she can fly from her saddle. That is, until she feels iron clamp around her arms.

It is Nox, fastening her bandaged wrists into shackles. A long chain leads to her horse, where it disappears beneath the saddlebags. She mounts her black stallion, and she considers leaping from her horse and using the chain to hang the captain from the nearest tree.

It is a rather large company, twenty all together. Behind two Imperial flag-bearing guards rides the prince and Duke Perrington. Then comes a band of six royal guards, dull and bland as porridge. But still trained to protect him – from _her_. Libby clanks her chains against her saddle and flicks her eyes to Nox. She doesn't react.

The sun rises higher. After one last inspection of their supplies, they leave. With most of the slaves working the mines, and only a few toiling inside the ramshackle refining sheds, the giant yard is almost deserted. The wall suddenly looms, and her blood throbs in her veins. The last time she had been this close to the wall . . .

The crack of the whip sounds, followed by a scream. Libby looks over her shoulder, past the guards and the supplies wagon, to the near-empty yard. None of these slaves will ever leave here – even when they die. Each week, they dig new mass graves behind the refining shed. And each week, those graves fill up.

She becomes all too aware of the three long scars down her back. Even if she wins her freedom . . . even if lives in peace in the countryside . . . those scars will always remind her of what she has endured. And that even if she is free, others are not.

Libby faces forward, pushing those thoughts from her mind as they enter the passage through the wall. The interior is thick, almost smoky, and damp. The sounds of the horses echo like rolling thunder. The iron gates open, and she glimpses the wicked name of the mine before it splits in two and swing wide. Within a few heartbeats, the gates groan shut behind them. She is out.

She shifts her hands in their shackles, watching the chains sway and clank between her and the Captain of the Guard. It is attached to Nox's saddle, which is cinched around her horse, which, when they stop, can be subtly unbridled, just enough so that with a fierce tug from Libby's end, the chain will rip the saddle off the beast, the captain will tumble to the ground, and Libby would –

She senses Captain Mareth's attention. She stares at Libby beneath lowered brows, her lips tightly pursed, and Libby shrugs as she drops the chain.

As the morning wears on, the sky becomes a crisp blue with hardly a cloud. Taking the forest road, they swiftly pass from the mountainous wasteland of Cidhna Mine and into the fairer country.

By midmorning they are within Evergreen Forest, the wood that surrounds Karthwasten and serves as a continental divide between the "civilized" countries of the east and the uncharted lands of the West. Legends are still told of the strange and deadly people who dwell there – the cruel and bloodthirsty descendants of the fallen Wayrest Kingdom. Libby has once met a young woman from that cursed land, and though she had turned out to be both cruel and bloodthirsty, she is was still a human. And had still bled like one.

After hours of silence, Libby turns to Nox. "Rumor has it that once the Ulfric is finished with his war against the Empire, he'll begin colonizing the West." Libby says is casually, but hopes she'll confirm or deny. The more she knew of Ulfric's current position and maneuverings, the better. The captain surveys Libby up and down, frowns, and then looks way. "I agree." Libby says, sighing loudly. "The fate of those empty, wide plains and those miserable mountain regions seems dull to me as well."

The captain's jaw tightens as she clamps her teeth.

"Do you intend to ignore me forever?"

Captain Mareth's brows rise. "I didn't know I was ignoring you."

Libby purses her lips, checking her irritation. She won't give the captain the satisfaction. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-two."

"So young!" Libby bats her eyelashes, watching her for some kind of response. "It only took a few years to climb the ranks?"

Nox nods. "And how old are _you_?"

"Same age. But I was nineteen when my reputation was at its highest." Libby giggles femininely. But the captain says nothing. "I know." Libby continues. "It is impressive that I accomplished so much at such an early age."

"Crime isn't an accomplishment, Libitania."

"Yes, but becoming the world's most famous assassin is!" The captain doesn't respond. "You might ask me how I did it."

"Did what?" the captain says tightly.

"Became so talented and famous so quickly."

"I don't want to hear about it."

Those aren't the words Libby wanted to hear.

"You're not very kind." She says through her teeth. If she is going to get under the Captain's skin, she has to push a lot harder.

"You're a criminal. I'm Captain of the Royal Guard. I'm not obligated to bestow any kindness or conversation upon you. Be grateful we don't keep you locked up in a wagon."

"Yes, well, I'd wager that you're rather unpleasant to talk to even when you're _bestowing_ kindness upon others." When Nox fails to respond again, Libby can't help but feel a bit foolish. A few minutes pass. "Are you and the Crown Prince close friends?"

"My personal life is none of your concern."

Libby slicks her tongue. "How wellborn are you?"

"Well enough." Nox's chin lifts almost imperceptibly higher.

"Duke?"

"No."

"Lord?" The captain doesn't reply, and Libby smiles slowly. "Lord Nox Mareth." Libby fans herself with a hand. "How the court men must _fawn_ over you!"

"Don't call me that. I'm not given the title of lord." She says quietly.

"You have an older sister?"

"No."

"Then why don't you bear the title?" Again, no response. Libby knows she should stop prying, but she can't help it. "A scandal? A deprived birthright? In what sort of messy intrigue are you involved?"

Nox' lips squeeze together so tightly they turn white.

Libby leans towards her. "Do you find that –"

"Shall I gag you, or are you capable of being silent without my assistance?" She stares ahead at the Crown Prince, her face blank again.

Libby tries not to laugh when the captain grimaces as she begins speaking again. "Are you married?"

"No."

Libby picks at her nails. "I'm not married, either." Nox's nostrils flare. "How old are you when you became Captain of the Guard?"

Nox grips the reins of her horse. "Twenty."

The party halts in a clearing and the soldiers dismount. Libby faces Nox, who swings a leg over her horse. "Why have we stopped?"

Nox unhooks the chain from her own saddle and gives a firm yank, motioning for Libby to dismount. "Lunch." She says.

Libby brushes a stray wisp of hair from her face and allows herself to be led into the clearing. If she wants to break free, she'll have to go through Nox first. Had they been alone, she might have attempted it, though the chains will make it difficult; but with an entourage of royal guards trained to kill without hesitation . . .

Nox remains close beside Libby while a fire is kindled and food prepared from the boxes and sacks of supplies. The soldiers roll logs to make small circles, where they sit while their companions stir and fry. The Crown Prince's dogs, who have dutifully trotted alongside their master, approach the assassin with wagging tails and lie at her feet. At least someone is glad for her company.

Hungry by the time a plate is finally laid in her lap, Libby becomes a bit more than irritated when the captain does not immediately remove her irons. After giving Libby a long warning look, Nox unlocks her chains and clamps them onto Libby's ankles. Libby only rolls her eyes as she raises a small portion of meat to her lips. She chews slowly. The last thing she needs is to be sick in front of them. While the soldiers talk amongst themselves, Libby takes in their surroundings. She and Nox sit with five soldiers. The Crown Prince, of course, sits with Perrington on their own two logs, far from her. While Joric has been all arrogance an amusement the previous night, his features are grave as he speaks to the duke. His entire body seems tense, and Libby doesn't fail to notice the way he clenches his jaw when Perrington speaks. Whatever their relationship is, it isn't cordial.

Midbite, Libby tears her focus from the prince to study the trees. The forest has gone silent. The ebony hounds' ears are erect, though they don't seem to be bothered by the stillness. Even the soldiers quieted. Libby's heart skips a beat. The forest is different here.

The leaves dangle like jewels – tiny droplets of ruby, pearl, topaz, amethyst, emerald, and garnet; and a carpet of such riches coat the forest floor around them. Despite the ravages of conquest, this part of Evergreen Forest remains untouched. It still echoes with the remnants of the power that it had once given these trees such unnatural beauty.

Libby was only eight when Zusa Phoenix, her early mentor and the Queen of the Assassins, found her half-submerged on the banks of a frozen river and brought her to the Faceless' keep on the border between Skyrim and Cyrodiil. While training her to be the finest and most loyal assassin, Zusa has never allowed Libby to return home to Cyrodiil. But she still remembers the beauty of the world before Ulfric Stormcloak had ordered so much of it burned. Now there is little left for her there, nor will there ever be. Zusa has never said it aloud, but if Libby had refused Zusa's offer to train her, Zusa would have handed her to those who would have killed her. Or worse. Libby had been newly orphaned, and even at eight, she knew that a life with Zusa, with a new name that no one would recognize but someday everyone would fear, is a chance to start over. To escape the fate that leads her to leap into the icy river that night almost twelve years ago.

"Damned forest." says an olive-skinned soldier in their circle. A soldier beside him chuckles. "The sooner it's burned, the better, I say." The other soldiers nod, and Libby stiffens. "It's full of hate," says another.

"Did you expect anything else?" Libby interrupts. Nox's hand darts to her sword as the soldiers turn to Libby, some of them sneering. "This isn't just any forest." Libby beckons with her fork to the woods. "It's Akatosh's forest."

"My father used to tell me stories about it being full of faeries." A soldier says. "They're all gone now. One takes a bite from an apple, and says. "Along with those damned wretched elves." Another says: "We got rid of them, didn't we?"

"I'd watch your tongues." Libby snaps. "Akatosh was Falmer; a Snow Elf, and Evergreen is still his. I wouldn't be surprised if some of trees remember him."

The soldiers laugh. "They'd have to be two thousand years old, them trees!" says one.

"Snow Elves can be immortal." Libby says.

"Trees ain't."

Bristling, Libby shakes her head and takes another small forkful of food.

"What do you know about this forest?" Nox quietly asks Libby. Is she mocking Libby? The soldiers sit forward, poised to laugh. But the captain's golden-brown eyes hold mere curiosity.

Libby swallows her meat. "Before Skyrim began its civil war, this forest was cloaked in magic." she says softly, but not meekly.

Nox waits for her to continue, but she has said enough. "And?" Nox prods.

"And that's all I know." Libby says, meeting the captain's gaze. Disappointed at the lack of anything to mock, the soldiers return to their meals.

Libby has lied, and Nox knew it. Libby knew plenty about this forest, knew that the denizens of this place have once been faeries: gnomes, sprites, nymphs, goblins, more names than anyone can count or remember. All ruled by their larger, human-like cousins, the immortal Snow Elves – the original inhabitants and settlers of the continent, and the oldest beings in Tamriel.

With the growing corruption of Skyrim and the Nords' campaign to hunt them down and execute them, the faeries and the Snow Elves fled, seeking shelter in the wild, untouched places of the old. It is unknown how many other Snow Elves can be found in Skyrim but it should be known that in some tomes it states that many fled Skyrim, meaning they could be in other parts of Tamriel or on different continents.

The Snow Elves were once a proud and prosperous race that made their home in portions of Skyrim, before their war with the Atmorans and enslavement by the Dwemer. They were the first race of Mer in Skyrim and were present long before the first Atmoran colonies established by Ysgramor. Their origin was part of the initial exodus of dissident Mer groups from the Summerset Isles along with the Dwemer, Chimer and Ayleids, although the only Mer to settle in Skyrim were the Snow Elves and at some point, the Dwemer.

Then the Atmorans arrived from Atmora, the Snow Elves struck up a somewhat comfortable relationship with the humans. Initial coexistence between men and Snow Elves was largely peaceful. While at first peaceful, war came along shortly later.

The peace was short-lived. Nords' had outlawed it all – magic, Elves, faeries – and sought to remove any trace so thoroughly that even those who had magic in their blood almost believed it had never really existed, Libby herself being one of them. Nords' had claimed that magic is an affront to the Nine Divines and the Daedra – that to wield it is to impertinently imitate their power. But the though the Nords' had banned magic, most knew the truth: within a month of Talos's proclamation, magic had completely and utterly disappeared of its own accord. Perhaps it had realized what horrors were coming.

The Snow Elves were broken and scattered, following numerous losses to Ysgramor and his Companions, and retreated to the island of Solstheim for safe harbor. Led by an elf only known as the Snow Prince, the Snow Elves took a final stand against the Nordic people, and, inspired by their leader, it seemed as though they'd come out victorious. The Battle of the Moesring, which was to be the last battle against the Nords, the Snow Prince was slain by a child by the name of Finna, who, in her grief after the death of her mother, had stabbed him.

The death of the Snow Prince caused the elves' hope to be shattered with many attempted to flee the battle. With the elves' military broken once and for all the Nords then mounted a genocidal campaign and killed Snow Elves by the thousands.

Libby can still smell the fires that had raged throughout her eighth and nine years – the smoke of burning books chock-full of ancient, irreplaceable knowledge, the screams of gifted seers and healers as they'd been consumed by the flames, the storefronts and sacred places shattered and desecrated and erased from history. Many of the magic-users who hadn't been burned wound up prisoners to the Dwemer– and most didn't survive long there. It has been a while since Libby had contemplated the gifts she'd lost, though the memory of her abilities haunts her dreams. Despite the carnage, perhaps it was good that magic had vanished. It is far too dangerous for any sane person to wield; her gifts might have destroyed her by this point.

Following their defeat, the Snow Elf resistance that fought back against the Nords was eradicated. Eventually, the Snow Elves sought refuge with the Dwemer underground. The Snow Elves had always maintained an uneasy alliance with the Dwemer, or Dwarves, and since the Snow Elves were experiencing an extinction-level event, they turned to the Dwarves for help. The Dwarves agreed to grant the Snow Elves refuge, but at a high price. They were forced to eat toxic plants in order to live underground. This toxic fungus naturally came from Blackreach, and the Dwemer gave the toxic fungus to the Snow Elves. The toxins gradually destroyed their sight, and this loss was passed down to their offspring. The Dwemer then forced the blind Snow Elves into slavery. Not all of the Snow Elves agreed to such a price. Splinter groups had formed to search for alternate solutions. These elves sought out other alliances, but, ultimately, most were slaughtered, vanished, or gave in and accepted the Dwemer's offers.

Over time, the Snow Elves began to devolve into twisted, blinded creatures, becoming the degenerate race now known as the Falmer. They were slaves of the Dwemer and over time, their history was lost as they became increasingly primal.

The smoking fire burns her eyes as she takes another bite. She'll never forget the stories about Evergreen Forest, legends of dark, terrible glens and deep, still pools, and caves full of light and heavenly singing. But they are now only stories and nothing more. To speak of them is to invite trouble.

Libby looks at the sunlight filtering through the canopy, how the trees sway in the wind with their long, bony arms around each other. She suppresses a shiver.

Lunch, thankfully, is over quickly. Her chains are transferred to her wrists again, and the horses are refreshed and reloaded. Libby's legs have become so stiff that Nox is forced to help her onto her horse. It is painful to ride, and her nose also suffers a blow as the continual stench of horse swat and excrement floats to the back of the entourage.

The travel for the remainder of the day, and the assassin sits in silence as she watches the forest pass, the tightness in her chest not easing until they have left that shimmering glen far behind. Her body aches by the time they stop for the night. She doesn't bother to speak at inner, nor to care when her small tent is erected, guards posted outside, and she is allowed to sleep, still shackled to one of them. She doesn't dream, but when she awakens, she can't believe her eyes.

Small white flowers lie at the foot of her cot, and many infant-sized footprints lead in and out of the tent. Before someone can enter and notice, Libby sweeps a foot over the tracks, destroying any trace, and stuffs the flowers into a nearby satchel.

Though no one mentions another word about faeries, as they travel onward, Libby continually scans the soldier's faces for any indication that they had seen something strange. She spends a good portion of the following day with sweaty palms and a racing heartbeat, and keeps one eye fixed on the passing woods.


	4. Chapter 3

The sunlight casts across Whiterun, and glitters across the Gildergreen's pink petals. Dew drops make them appear like little gems across the branches. Citizens are out for the morning and trading at the stalls already, and children run around playing tag across the plaza.

The sound of clacking sticks echoes through the courtyard of Jorrvaskr. Torvar tries to keep his breathing steady, but still winds up gasping for air as he swings his wooden practice staff at the fellow blonde Companion.

Her golden hair shines as she ducks and weaves, aiming her stick to whack at the Companion's sides. She steadies her feet and jabs the end of her staff towards Torvar, who sides steps out of the way. Two more jabs he blocks and he holds his staff steady as she lunges for him, connecting their staffs, splinters scraping the wood.

She is strong. She was strong before, but now she's incredible. Even Vilkas was surprised to see her skill increase; she could even handle two warhammers in each hand, and each is nothing more than steel extensions of her arms.

Torvar growls as she smirks at him, keeping in mind his arms are shaking as he tries to keep the block. Torvar pushes her off, spinning in the process as she brings his staff up ready to swipe down, but she easily hurls herself back, flipping on one hand as she staff whips down and into the stone. The crack sounds throughout the courtyard.

Diamond stands a yard away from him now, her hair glinting in the afternoon sunlight. Her eyes shine with excitement and amusement as she spins the staff in her hand. With one hand on her hip she smiles as she faces Torvar. "You know Torvar, I found myself saying a little prayer for you last night."

"Did you now, Diamond?" Torvar smiles as she readies his staff. "How kind."

"Yes," the staff whoops behind her as she spins it in her hand. "I prayed that Hircine would inspire you, with a strategy that might end your rather _long_ string of defeats at my hand."

The Nord warrior snarls and lunges forward. Their staves whack and clack against one another and when he swings his leg, ready to slam it into Diamond's side, she dives and rolls. Torvar is there ready to stab down his staff but Diamond pounces back and blocks as he goes for a deathblow. She grips both ends of her staff and pushes his aside. Her legs follows smoothly and connects with Torvar's staff, breaking it in half.

He keeps both parts in his hands, and Diamond knows how he prefers axes and hammers. Duel wielding weapons is more of Athis' specialty.

Still, when she goes to lunge to him, he dodges to the side and turns and grips the one end of Diamond's staff aiming for his ribs. He hold the end by crossing the two pieces of wood. He then chucks one end at Diamond, of which she blocks with her forearm, gritting her teeth.

She realizes her mistake a second after, but it's too late.

Torvar slams his foot onto Diamond's staff, slapping it into the ground and tearing it from Diaomond's grip. She can feel the scraping of the splinters in her palm, joining the other many scars and scabbed over blisters of her callus skin.

Diamond gasps as Torvar readies to ram the other end, spiked from the breakage and aims it directly under Diamond's chin. She leans back to a stand as Torvar comes close and keeps the piece under her chin.

"Praise Hircine." He grins.

Diamond manages to angle her chin away from the pointed end and raise her hand up while Torvar allows himself a moment of glory. That is his last mistake.

Diamond grips the small ponytail at the back of his head and pulls. As Torvar yelps in pain, in one smooth motion, Diamond grips his wrist and yanks the staff piece out. Then she uses her foot to knock out Torvar's, and adds height to his fall with her knee to ensure he loses footing.

As his back slams into the stone, Diamond places her foot on his neck, lightly, and just smirks down at the Nord Companion.

"Obviously, I'm not praying hard enough." She doesn't fight the triumphant smirk on her lips.

Torvar just glares at her, but she can see a small smile on his lips when he says: "If you were not Kodlak's protégé . . ."

She raises her eyebrows, but on cue, she hears the doors to Jorrvaskr creak open and out steps the Harbinger of the Companions, Kodlak Whitemane. His greyish silver hair ripples in the light as she steps from light to shadow. His pale blue eyes gleam with pride, and his war paint decorated his right eye holds a shimmer of its former glory across his fairly wrinkled features.

He wears his usual dark-grey, ornately designed armor with the head of his belt and clasp at the center of his breastplate in the carving of a wolf. "Well done, Diamond." he chuckles. "But be kind to Torvar. Believe it or not there was a time when he was a fierce as warrior as Talos."

"I'm assuming that was before he discovered the world had mead?" Diamond grins as she lets up her foot. Torvar growls as she pushes to a sitting position. Kodlak only gives her a pointed stare, but the corners of his mouth upturned.

While Kodlak doesn't give orders like a traditional leader, his word is highly respected in Jorrvaskr and across all nine holds of Skyrim. It's amazing he's managed to remain so benign and wise individual for such a rowdy group.

For twenty years, Kodlak has commanded the Companions, balancing his tactical skill, ferocity in combat, and commanding presence. As Harbinger, he is the one that helps channel the Companions' skills in a way that can benefit Skyrim's people, rather than leaving them to brawl and drink all day long. His observation on honor is very definitive as well. Stoic in disposition, Kodlak can be very withdrawn at times.

"Now Diamond." he warns. Diamond simply smiles sheepishly a she hoists Torvar to his feet. "You've been doing well, Diamond. You always seem to amaze me at the lengths you go to for training. It's impressive."

"Thank you, Kodlak." Diamond says with a bow.

"Now if you would do me a kindness and patrol the area of Whiterun? I have Aela and the twins off on another task."

"Yes Kodlak."

"When you get back, find me. Oh and take this." Kodlak brings forward a fair-sized coin purse.

"What? Kodlak –!"

"Take it, Diamond. Consider it an allowance for your birthday." He smiles.

"Oh, Kodlak." Diamond gazes at the pouch. "That's sweet you remembered my birthday, but I can't."

"Take it, Diamond. I insist. Buy yourself something nice." He winks and before she can protest, he turns and readies to head back inside.

He passes by Torvar who says, "And buy something pretty too." He nearly slurs. "You're nearly a woman and you dress like a Hagraven.

Diamond is about to open her mouth in protest, but she doesn't need to as Kodlak is already beside Torvar and pinching his ear. Torvar yelps in pain as he rephrases his sentence. "But what I mean to say is that you're a growing young woman and have the stunning features of Dibella!"

Finally Kodlak releases his grip and Torvar sighs, rubbing the spot on his ear. Diamond giggles, but is quick to hide her smile behind her hand; that is until she hears Kodlak chuckle with her. She gives her goodbyes and after slinging her Dwarven Warhammer over her back, she rounds the side towards the front of Jorrvakr.

As she jogs down the steps, she passes one of the city guards who – even with his helmet on – Diamond can see spots her and bow his head slightly as she passes. She returns the man's nod and continues her walk towards the marketplace.

It's so weird to have her face out in the open now. She was so accustomed to having her face clouded in shadows and concealed by her cowl, having it down almost feel as if she's breaking an unspoken rule. Still, it's feels like she's finally accepting her new life as no one is giving her a second glance, well except for the male courtesans and the average boys of the village.

It's been three years since Diamond had departed from the Dark Brotherhood; months of those years spent simply wandering around Skyrim; just doing _nothing_. After the betrayal of Libby – Diamond's chest still aching, though everyday it gets duller and duller – Diamond didn't even bother to collect the reward after her arguably failed assassination of the Emperor.

What had been a brilliant plan to bring the Brotherhood back on top of Skyrim, turned out to be an atrocious ending of lives and the destruction of her entire Sanctuary. And it was all due to the newest, but by now well-known assassination faction, The Faceless. A shudder works its way through Diamond's shoulders. She rubs her arms as she skips down the steps through the marketplace, sparing Hulda, the innkeeper of The Bannered Mare.

The Faceless are an assassination group who claim they're fighting for the rights of women in Skyrim; that alone automatically earning them preferred favor of many women. They claim to avenge women who have been the victims of abuse, sexual assault, or other mistreatments. They take contracts from the victims, killing them in such horrid and detailed ways, and also accept payment from widowed men who have had lovers or spouses of the same predicament. Needless to say their influence has spread, and it is indeed showing throughout the nine Holds. Women walk around more with their heads held high and their stature is domineering. Some go as far as to have a Faceless escort them home or around the hold. Guards immediately stand at attention, but don't arrest them on the spot. Fear. It's the main thing that holds the Faceless in control.

The Companions have had several citizens and assignments sent to them to deal with a Faceless member, but some of them rarely get completed as the client is already dead before the message can ever be delivered. If one does seem to miraculously survive by the time the message reaches Whiterun, Kodlak usually sends out those within The Circle. Though he kindly relieves Diamond of the stress of going.

Ever since her encounter with Zusa, their cruel, heartless, and ungodly beautiful leader, Diamond can't even think of the Faceless in general without having an ice pick of fear pinch through her chest. When she had first joined The Companions, Diamond had suffered a couple months of tortuous nightmares, thrashing in her bed until Kodlak would hear her wailing and rouse her from it.

She would dream of flames devouring everything she's ever loved. Other times it would be Astrid's burnt corpse rising up and gripping Diamond's ankle and readying herself to bite down on Diamond's neck. Other times it would be of a Faceless member, who appear as nothing more than a black ominous blur, dissecting her on a table while Zusa laughs in the background.

There was one time when Diamond had dreamt that Zusa had captured Libby. And that she would beat and stab and whip Libby until she had told her everything she knew about the Brotherhood. Diamond remembers screaming until her throat burned, tears streaming down her cheeks as she watched Libby's back slowly start to look like nothing more than a raw slab of meat. Diamond woke up that night with a raw throat and unable to take the heat of her room, had creeped into Kodlak's room; who was thankfully still awake. He insisted Diamond take the bed while he worked out on the table outside the room.

Sometimes Diamond could still hear the screaming. If her head ever got too quiet, that's when it would start up. Occasionally she'd wake up in the middle of the night and there'd be blood all over her hands. And all down her arms. And she would blink several times before it would go away. She can still feel her leader – her former leader's blood – Astrid, she can still feel it soaking into her skin, into her hair.

Every time Kodlak would tell her to try and go back to sleep, but Diamond was starting to doubt if she would ever know true rest again.

But soon Kodlak's words reign true.

Diamond extends one of her arms out in front of her, staring at it as she flips it from front of back. Nothing. The pink paint on her manicured nails glitters vibrantly.

Zusa had said something about how Diamond was 'her gem.' As if she had owned Diamond all her life. Never. Something about turning her into a true gem of beauty. Gods. Diamond can still feel the pressure of Zusa's lips against her own. Diamond rubs her arms and fights the nausea in her stomach. Zusa had gone as far as kidnapping Diamond to join her group, and after what Diamond was striking a fair deal with Zusa to stay in her headquarters (just for the sake of wanting to extort information for Astrid) it turns out that while Diamond was there, Zusa had sent out a letter to Astrid lying that Diamond had chosen to join.

In return, when Diamond managed to escape, with the help of two members who did not believe in Zusa's "cause", Astrid had in turn betrayed Diamond by offering her to Commander Maro; a man who had hated the Dark Brotherhood as old as Skyrim's existence. But then the Commander betrayed Astrid and sent his agents out as well as the Faceless' assassins to destroy Diamond's Sanctuary home.

In the end, Diamond had become leader of the Brotherhood, as well as the Listener of the Night Mother. But now, even with two remaining members, and more wanting to join, Diamond just couldn't bring herself to do _anything_.

So she left. Without a word.

She still doesn't know if Nazir or Babette think she was killed or if she had just taken a personal holiday. But that thought was obliterated when Diamond didn't return to the Sanctuary. She did though, killed Amound Motierre, her client who had hired the Brotherhood to assassinate the Emperor. As part of the Emperor's last wish, at least according to Zusa.

The Faceless had ruined everything. And Libby was part of their conspiracy. She had given Zusa all of Diamond's information. What she thought was her lifelong friend, was really someone with empty words, and a face accustomed to lying to someone while looking directly into their eyes.

Libby was a member of the now feared and respected Thieves Guild, honed in Riften. She was three years older than Diamond, so by now, she's probably in her twenties. Diamond snarls as she pushes her way through the front gates, the guards immediately standing at attention as she passes.

She and Libby had been friends since they were young women, barely in their teen years, and Libby had killed Diamond's client by mistake. To think of her now as an official woman . . . She would probably be Guild Master by now, too. Diamond shakes her head.

Her care for Libby had evaporated the minute that she had been revealed to Diamond standing next to Zusa, cocooned in the Faceless wrappings and cloak, ebony weapons strapped to her waist. Diamond had snapped once things had settled into her mind. She had tried to kill Libby. She _would_ have killed Libby without a moment's hesitation or regret despite their history. If it was that easy for her to throw it all away like that, then it would be so much easier for Diamond. Still though, Libby had managed to beat her, like always, and Diamond was knocked unconscious and woke up the next moment on the shorelines of the Solitude waters with her warhammer next to her.

Libby had left her drawing of the Guild in the sand as a way to tell Diamond where her allegiance really lies, but to Diamond, it only confirmed that Libby had most likely done it for the benefit of the Guild. Diamond would've thought otherwise, but now it would seem she knows nothing about Libby, and can't seem to take her word for it anymore. What assumptions could she make about the Guild member now?

And it's clear now that she's kept _far_ much more from Diamond than she had expected. While Diamond had been working her ass off to bring the Brotherhood to its respectable reputation, words were whispered around the streets of all nine Holds about an assassin of the Faceless who has become the most feared, but no one knows who she was besides her name and that she's female.

Once Diamond heard the name, that was all she needed. And none of this she found out until after she had joined the Companions. Yet another secret kept by Libby. How much more did she have?

Diamond wouldn't have believed it had she not seen Libby standing right next to Zusa on the Emperor's ship.

But gods . . . Libby, Skyrim's Assassin; also known by many as The Assassin of the Rift. What Diamond doesn't understand is that Libby father, Gallus, was a Master _Thief_. And it's clear that she's known of her origins, so why choose to become an assassin instead of truly following in her father's footsteps? Diamond just _knew_ he wouldn't approve of Libby's choices had he been alive.

She heads further down the dirt road and towards the farmlands farther out from the walls of Whiterun, near the Honningbrew Meadery. Things seem normal; the farmers pause their work of planning new seeds for the upcoming crops to wave to her and Diamond waves and smiles back.

She nearly halts when she sees the son of one of the farmers: a beautiful boy with blonde hair and sapphire eyes, as he hurries down to the field and snatches a chicken wandering too close to the road. He is of the same height as him, same built but perhaps a little less muscular.

Back when Diamond was captured and forced to say in the headquarters of the Faceless, she had befriended two members: Veera, and Malick. Veera was a spunky girl around Diamond's age, who had been taken in by the Faceless after they had murdered her mother for defying generations of work with the assassins. She was vivacious, sharp, impertinent. She would've been Diamond's only other friend is she hadn't been . . .

Just that fast, the world vanishes. The trees and chirping birds, the sound of working men and women disappear. All Diamond can sees is Zusa's sword as it swiped through the air.

One blow from that mighty sword.

That was all it took to sever Veera's head.

The scream that erupted out of Diamond was the worst sound she herself had ever heard.

Worse even than the wet, heavy thud of her head hitting the red carpet.

Diamond claps a hand over her mouth, suppressing a sob.

Then she's back in the woods, everything is dark and she's running. Running like a coward as she turned her head, ever so slowly and spots Malick on the ground. His muscular chest is charred black as Zusa approaches him with her purple flaming sword in her hand. She aimed the tip of it towards Malick's chest. Diamond had turned her head away, but she can still see and hear the scream that Malick had unleashed. It still chills her spine to this day.

Strong, powerful, arrogant, beautiful Malick. What would've happened to him is he escaped? What could've happened to _them_?

Diamond raises her shaking hand to her lips. It was for a brief moment, but she could still feel his soft and firm lips on her own. His final goodbye to her before he ventured off to distract the Faceless Leader while Diamond had fled. Ran instead of staying to fight. Even if he had told her to run and never look back, it would've been better to dir by his side now, than to live and experience everything that had transpired since his sacrifice. Diamond would've preferred to have died with a small bit of Zusa's blood on her blade than to have lived through the rest of the events that night.

Everything was a mess. Everything was ruined in her past, but now, now that she is with the Companions . . . now that she feels like she has a _home_ . . . She is happy.

And it's the truth. For the first time in years, she is truly _happy_. The feeling curls around every thought, a tendril of hope that grows with each breath. She is afraid to look at it for too long, as though acknowledging it will somehow cause it to disappear. Perhaps the world will never be perfect, perhaps some things will ever be right, but maybe she stands a chance of finding her own sort of peace and freedom.

It wasn't until Diamond had become accompanied with The Companions did Diamond realize how much of Malick and Veera's sacrifice would've been in vain if she had continued her life as she did when she first came to Whiterun. Drinking, eating, bathing at her convenience and doing absolutely _nothing_. They both would've slapped her for it.

But now, hopefully their happy with her decision, and maybe they're smiling down on her at seeing her lively again.

Rounding the corner that leads back to the front path near the gate, Diamond is still huddled slightly into herself. She quickly shrugs her shoulders and cracks her neck as she approaches the guards again, who immediately cease their conversation as Diamond passes by again. This time she smiles and says: "Gentlemen."

Pushing her way through the gates, the giant grey hinges groan and a couple of guards are already greeting her as they exchange shifts. She makes her way back towards Jorrvaskr with her warhammer clacking against her back.

She imagines that if she had her old hair it would've gotten caught onto the handle as it usually had before; until she finally decided to cut it as a way to embrace her new life.

However the short hair was the least of the changes, though Diamond still does love to play with it. Her body has grown at last a couple inches, passing her usual height of 4'11. She still wasn't as tall as some of the other Companions, in fact she was the one that was usually used as an arm rest by other. But Diamond doesn't mind; in fact, it makes her feel more at home with the Companions. At least she still holds pride as she passes Aela's shoulder height. Not to mention that she was welcomed into the Circle.

The Circle is a small name for those of the Companions who rank higher, such as Skjor, Aela, and the twins. But this title holds far more than just possessing honor, as members of the Circle also possess the power of Lycanthropy. As such, the guild is in constant conflict with a band of werewolf hunters known as the Silver Hand. After Diamond had done her own quest as a proof of honor and loyalty to the Companions, Skjor came to her and offered Diamond lycanthropy. A special ceremony was conducted allowing for her transformation into a werewolf, and Diamond will never forget it.

Apart from Aela telling her that she'd given them more trouble than Farkas during his first turn, the shift had hurt like hell. A flash o blinding pain as her features ripped free of the hold that hid them. She could smell everything, see everything. Her heightened senses pulled her attention every which way, telling her that this world dangerous. She remembers the roar that had bellowed, and revealed her elongated canines. She remembers the feeling of blood on her claws, her feel of arrows whizzing past her fur.

If only Libby could see her now. But she can't, and never will again as they had both knew the truth the moment she had been revealed standing next to Zusa.

She had lost Diamond.

And she will never, in a thousand years, let her in again.

Making her way back to Jorrvaskr, Diamond remembers to buy herself "something nice" as ordered by Kodlack.

Dressed in a deep blue tunic, she can't help but feel rather dignified by the bits of armor that cover her arms, legs, and vital organs. Her vambraces hide several daggers and steel gauntlets morph into leather gloves. Her pauldrons have layered sleeves arching to a tip and stretch to cover her breastplate. Then a pair of black trousers covered by metal plated tassets and black fur lined knee-high boots with leather reinforced greaves.

She hops up the steps and eases her way through the front door. The minute she steps inside, the sound of commotions sounds. She jerks her head to the left and finds Njada tackle Athis to the ground and pound him in with harsh punches to the jaw.

Diamond simply rolls her eyes and sighs. She folds her arms and leans against the wooden post as she watches Athis unbalance Njada enough to shove her off and into a smaller table. Aela sits at the table, eating at his bread and conversing with Ria like nothing is wrong.

This kind of thing happens all the time. All the more reason why Diamond is surprised at how Kodlak had managed to stay sane all those twenty years. Personally, Diamond is rooting for Athis, as Njada isn't her most favorite person on the world. When they had first met, Diamond was still . . . not right, fair to say, and Njada made the mistake of pushing Diamond that day.

She barely had time to react when Diamond had lunged at her. Technically she was unarmed, but one should never underestimate the harm that fingernails can do, especially if the target is unprepared. Diamond raked her nails down Njada's face, causing blood to flow and damage to one eye. Diamond had her pinned against the wall as she gouged at the Companion. Blood had slide down her cheek, down her neck. Then she was screaming terrible, terrible things to Diamond.

As many before, she had underestimated Diamond just because of her size. She maybe small, but her warhammers weren't exactly lightweight.

Diamond herself just screaming; wordless, agonizing wails that flayed the air with their furry and it had taken both the twins and Skjor himself to rip Diamond off of Njada.

They dragged her to the sleeping quarters below, to Kodlak's room where they had restrained her body, her wrists pinned down by the twins. So Diamond had slammed her head in fury again and again against the pillows until a needle poked her arm and her head hurt so badly that she stopped fighting; the twins feeling safe enough to release her. Still, Diamond simply wailed in a horrible, dying-animal way until her voice gave out.

The drug caused sedation, not sleep, so she was trapped in fuzzy, dully aching misery for what seemed like always. Kodlak stayed by her that night sitting by his bed, occupied by Diamond, and spoke soothing words to her that managed to hold Diamond's attention.

She still feels his callus hand stroking her hair as he spoke to her about his travels and adventures in his glory years. He had coaxed her into eating, promising that the food wasn't dosed with more sedative drugs. And whatever promises he made to her, he held true enough. He had promised that the fellow members would give her space until she felt comfortable. He promised her a new set of clothes that would be better suited for someone of her spirit.

The way he had worded it, it made it sound as if she was a fighter of some kind. It's a bit of a stretch considering that Diamond had just attacked one of his members within a day of being accepted into his union. But still, it also made Diamond seem not so bad in general. That she wasn't a complete waste of a life and that there's still something burning within her that could be used for the greater good.

To this day, Diamond and Njada aren't exactly friends, but there's that bitter but fun rivalry going on between the two; as well as a mutual respect.

Athis had just rammed his fist into Njada's sternum, and while the air wheezes out of her lungs, she still takes it in stride as she grabs his wrist, twists it and pins it behind the Dumer's back. Diamond sighs and makes her way down towards the sleeping quarters. She knew how it would end now.

She keeps a straight path towards the far back of the lower level where she walks the long red rug beneath her feet. There she finds Kodlak and Vilkas conversing as usual, Kodlak's bedroom door closed. This first small detail is the first thing Diamond notifies as she enters through the double doors that separates Kodlak's spacious room from the rest of the sleeping quarters.

Kodlak's eyes instantly flick up and a smiles comes across his face as he beholds Diamond entering the room. Vilkas follows, but gives nothing more than a surprise raise of eyebrows. But that's all the noticing Diamond needs from him. Given how he's her trainer in two-handed weapons, there's no way he'd ever exploit compliments from Diamond without the thought of her using it against him somehow. Just because she was a former assassin doesn't mean she takes in every little bit of information. Especially if it's not deemed useful or even worthy of listening, such as when she listened to Vignar Grey-Mane ramble about the long-lasting rivalry of the Battle-Born Clan and the Grey-Manes.

"Well, you certainly listen to that order pretty well." Kodlak chuckles.

Diamond smiles bashfully as she adjusts the strap of her warhammer. "The perimeter is clear. It's been pretty quiet since all of the bandits moved up to Winterhold."

"Yes well, this luxury isn't going to last long, so keep on your toes." Vilkas speaks.

"And just who said that I was going to take it easy?" Diamond challenges with a grin. Vilkas snarls, but Kodlak waves a hand at him.

Vilkas is the twin brother of Farkas, as well as a member of the Circle. He has dark hair and pale blue eyes. His skin would be an olive color, if not for the smears and faded patches of dirt on his face.

Vilkas and his brother Farkas were both raised in Jorrvaskr. Their father, Jergen, left them where while he went to fight in the Great War and unfortunately passed. Eventually, they joined the Companions, and are said to have been the youngest members ever to join.

At first he didn't think that Diamond was worthy of being a Companion, and with her attack on Njada a day after being brought, he always had a sense of guard up and ready in case Diamond were to snap again. Still, once she showed her genuine appreciation for Kodlak and his kind words, he managed to bring back the mischievous part of her with his training in the courtyard. He is well-spoken, and considered to be an intelligent man by the other Companions, the counterpart to his brother's physical prowess.

Though he does have his hot-tempered moments. Diamond proved that while he was training her on how to block and swipe, and Diamond argued that he was doing it wrong. Their glaring match was one for the century. Diamond kept constantly telling him how to hold the weapon, and Vilkas simply brushed her knowledge aside by saying that because it was the way _she_ was taught, by assassins, that it was incorrect and irrelevant.

Well, it wasn't so irrelevant when Diamond knocked him flat on his ass with the head of her hammer inches from his nose, the blade of his own broadsword aimed at his neck.

"So you told me to come and find you after I got back, Kodlak." Diamond reminds, turning her attention to the Harbinger.

"Ah yes. I have something for you." he grunts as he rises from his seat.

"What?" Diamond says. She looks to Vilkas for a sign, but his face remains expertly neutral. Which only helps to clarify that he knew this was coming. Ass.

"Just wait there." Kodlak says as he enters his bedroom.

"What's going on?" Diamond asks. But Vilkas remains silent, only a smile creeping on his lips. Make that an egotistical ass.

Kodlak then returns, and in his hands is a weapon that takes Diamond's breath away.

With its ornately designed handle and turquoise-green cut crystals connected with the gold encasing of the head, the weapon is of exquisite beauty as it is deadly lethal.

Diamond had been dying to find, smith let alone buy a Glass Warhammer; and one of this spectacular beauty and condition! Everything about is seemed perfectly smithed and carved and sharpened. She had only seen one other hanging on the plague of Jorrvaskr, and that one was from ages ago, presented by the small bits of rust slowly crawling its way up the handle, the glass fading to a dull forest green.

But this . . . oh this one. It shines like it's been polished by the waters of the Divines themselves. Apart from being rare and no doubt valuable, glass made weapons are the fifth most effective classification of weapons available in Skyrim. Only Ebony and Daedric weapons are stronger.

"Oh, Kodlak." Diamond breathes. "You shouldn't have –"

Kodlak immediately holds up his hand, palm out to stop Diamond, and she does. She folds her lips in as he sets the head of the warhammer down like a walking stick, supporting his left side. "I remembered it was your birthday last month, but the smith had such a popular demand that I couldn't get the first one until last week."

Diamond just stares at the weapon. Her eyes wide and her mouth widely agape at the glass weapon as the glass parts of it glitter in the moonlight.

"Well, don't just stand there gawking. Take it." Kodlak says as he skillfully.

Diamond immediately lunges forward, but doesn't grab the weapon, but instead pulls Kodlak into a hug. He chuckles as Diamond starts to manically giggle as she repeatedly thanks him.

"Oh you're welcome, little cub." Kodlak says with a careful pat on her back. "But to be fair I can't take all of the credit. Vilkas helped pick it out."

Diamond has just clasps her shaking hands around the handle when she turns to Vilkas, his cheeks having the slightest shade of pink under the smears of dirt. "Really?"

"Only because you looked to stupid walking around with that gods-old hammer of yours." Vilkas covers by gesturing to the near rusting Dwarven warhammer strapped to her back.

She turns back to Kodlak. "That's so sweet you remembered my birthday. But I can't take this."

"Don't start that now, Diamond. It's already been paid for, and I suggest you hand that old one over before we have to take it from you." Kodlak smiles.

Diamond takes the hammer, feeling like nothing more than her normal hammers from before. Perhaps lighter; but this one is still as lethal. She takes a few spacious swings with it, and spins it between her hands before turning back to the two. She smiles, but it becomes uneasy as she suntraps her Dwarven hammer.

"Well, no disrespect, Kodlak, but I don't wish to simply throw away my hammer. I mean, I know it sounds inane, but I've had a lot of fights and memories with this."

"I understand." Kodlak chuckles. "I too, have some treasured weapons of my own."

"Thank you so much!" Diamond cheers as she plants a kiss on his cheek. Kodlak chuckles as he takes his seat back next to Vilkas.

"I'm glad you like it. Also, be sure to check your room. I'm sure there are some sweets there that are waiting to be disposed of." Kodlak winks.

Diamond nearly squeals when she exchanges out her weapons and practically skips down the hallway to her sleeping quarters. When she steps through the threshold, she scent hits her immediately, watering her mouth with saliva.

There sitting perfectly stacked on a silver plate is a small, circular pound cake fit just for one person to gorge on.

Diamond smiles widely as she goes and leaps onto her bed, settling her newly polished warhammer at her side, and scrambles for a fork and knife. Carefully cutting a neat slice, Diamond pops it in her mouth and indulges on the saccharine taste of the vanilla and frosting.


	5. Chapter 4

Despite her attempts to keep her breathing steady, Libby gasps for air as she runs around the perimeter of the campsite. Even though she's winded, she doesn't show it; not with at least six guards already awake and eyeing her carefully despite the thirteen yards of distance she put between her and them. Right now, she's nothing more than a dot on the horizon.

Sweat gleams on her face and dampens her white shirt. During their travel towards Solitude, Libby awakens before dawn to train around the campsite, using whatever she could to exercise. She would practice her balance, handstands and pushups on the cargo carried by the horses and managed to break off a few thick branches that make for remarkable practice weapons. It was hard enough that she is always shackled to everything and everyone; harder still for her to convince the Captain of the Guard to release her so that she may use her free time wisely. The last thing she needs is the Prince of Hjaalmarch to send her back to Cidhna Mine all over a guard's "borrowed" sword gone missing.

She runs towards a hill, its top still shrouded in morning mist. Her legs buckle at the sight of the incline, and her stomach rises in her throat. Libby lets out a loud gasp before she slows to a stop, and braces her hands against a tree trunk.

Taking a shuddering breath, holding on tightly to the tree as she vomits. She hates the warmth of the tears that leak from her eyes, but can't wipe them away as she heaves again, gagging. Libby leans her brow into her upper arm, calming her breathing, willing her body to ease. It has been four days since their departure from Markarth, a week since they crossed the border into Haafingar, and she is still horribly out of shape. Dragon's Bridge shouldn't be too far now. Hopefully there they'll get more than descent hospitality and some healers with the Prince of Hjaalmarch visiting their little town.

"Done?" a voice asks. Libby doesn't need to turn to know it's Nox. Still she lifts her head to give the captain a withering glare, but everything spins, dragging her down with it, and she resumes retching again. "I told you to eat before you go."

"Are you done being smug?"

"Are you done vomiting your guts up?" Nox says with a half smile.

Libby wants to punch the smirk off her face, but as she takes a step, her knees shake and she puts her hands against the tree again, waiting for the retching to renew. Out of the corner of her eye she can see a couple of guards following up, whether as backup or to simply give a report, Libby doesn't care. But she does see them staring at her back, which most of it is exposed by her damp shirt, revealing the single white band that covers her breasts.

She stands."How much further until we reach Solitude?"

"No more than another week."

Libby sighs and looks up at the canopy of leaves above her. A morning breeze sends Libby shuddering, ripping a few from where they cling to the skeletal branches. The wind stirs around her, ripping strands of her hair from her braid.

After a moment of silence, Libby barely gives Nox another stare before she bursts into a run, up towards the hill – where the first rays of sunshine begins to peek through. She savors the feeling of the wind once she walks back with Nox to the campsite, shirt soaked and sticking to her with sweat, and her shackles are reattached.

For the rest of their travels down through Dragon's Bridge, the nights become colder, the days shorter. Icy rain keeps them company for four days, during which time Libby is so miserably cold that she contemplates throwing herself into a ravine, hopefully dragging Nox with her.

Everything is wet and half-frozen, and while she can bear sodden hair, she can't withstand the agony of wet shoes. She has little sensation in her toes. Each night, she wraps them in whatever spare, dry clothing she can find. She feels as though she is in a state of partial decay and with each gust of frigid, stinging wind, she wonders when her skin will rip from her bones. But, as it is autumn weather, the rain suddenly disappears, and cloudless, brilliant skies once more stretch over them.

Libby is half-asleep on her horse when the Crown Prince pulls out of line and comes trotting towards them, his dark hair bouncing. His red cape rise and falls in a crimson wave. Above his unadorned white shirt is a fine cobalt-blue jerkin trimmed with gold. Libby would have snorted, but he _did_ look rather good in his knee-high brown boots. And his leather belt _did_ go nicely – even though the hunting knife seems a bit too bejeweled. He pulls alongside Nox. "Come," he says to the captain, and jerks his head at the steep, grassy hill that the company is starting to ascend.

"Where?" the captain asks, jangling Libby's chain for Joric to notice. Wherever she went, so did Libby.

"Come see the view." Joric clarifies. "Bring that one, I suppose." Libby bristles. "That one"! As if she is a piece of baggage!

Nox moves them out of line, giving Libby's chain a fierce tug. Libby grasps the reins as they advance into a gallop, the tangy smell of horsehair creeping into her nostrils. They ride quickly up the steep hill, the horse jerking and surging beneath her. Libby tries not to wince as she slides backwards in the saddle. If she fell, she'd die of humiliation. But the setting sun emerges from the trees behind them, and her breath catches in her throat as a spire, then three, then six more appear , piercing the sky.

Atop the hill, Libby stares at the crowning achievement of Haafingar. The Blue Palace of Solitude.

It is gargantuan, a vertical city of shimmering, glinting stone towers and bridges, chambers and turrets, domed ballrooms and long, endless hallways. It has been built above the original stone castle, and cost a kingdom's wealth to construct.

Libby thought the first time she'd seen it, eight years ago, cold and still, frozen like the earth beneath her fat pony. Even then, she found the castles gorgeous, built with exquisite talent, its towers reaching into the sky like clawed fingers. She remembers the powder-blue cloak that she kept touching, the weight of her fresh curls, the scratch of her stockings against the saddle, how she worried about the spot of mud on her red velvet shoes, and how she kept on thinking about that man – the man she'd killed three days earlier.

"One more tower and the whole thing will collapse." The Crown Prince of Morthal says from his spot on the other side of Nox. The sounds of their approaching party fills the air. "We've still got a few miles left, and I'd rather navigate these foothills in the daylight we'll camp here tonight."

"I wonder what Jarl Elisif will think of her." Nox says.

"Oh, I'm sure she won't be too keen on having Skyrim's Assassin in her hold. And when she opens her mouth, then the bellowing and blustering will begin; and I'll regret wasting the past two months tracking her down. But – well, I think the High Queen has more important things to worry over." With that, the prince moves off.

Libby can't keep her eyes from the castle. She feels so small, even from far away. She'd forgotten how dwarfing the building is.

The soldiers scurry about, lighting fires and raising tents. "You look as if you're facing the gallows, not your freedom." The captain says beside her.

Libby wraps an unwraps a strap of leather rein around a finger. "It's odd to see it."

"The city?"

"The city, the castle, the slums, the river." The shadow of the castle grows across the city like a hulking beast. "I still don't entirely know how it happened."

"How you were captured?"

Libby nods. "Despite you visions of a perfect world under an empire, your rulers and politicians are wu9ck to destroy each other. So are assassins, I suppose."

"You believe one of your kind betrayed you?"

"No, I'm just ashamed my skill wasn't good enough to prevent. Though I wouldn't doubt it if I was betrayed, somehow. Everyone knew I received the best hires and could demand any payment." Libby scans the twisting city streets and the winding glimmer of the Karth River. "Were I gone, a vacancy would arise from which they could profit. It might have been one; I might have been many."

"You shouldn't expect to find honor amongst such company."

"I didn't say I did. I never trusted most of them, and I knew they hated me." She had her suspicions, of course. And the one that seemed most likely was a truth she wasn't yet ready to face – not now, not ever.

"Cidhna Mine must've been terrible." Nox says. Nothing malicious or mocking lies beneath her words. Did Libby dare call it sympathy?

"Yes." Libby says slowly. "It was." Libby doesn't want to go any further. Besides her suspicion that Nox wouldn't really care about it, that is an old repertoire that she has long since closed off in her mind, along with that girl of whom had broken out the night that she was a finger's touch away from murdering Zusa. Though her slaughter had decreased the number of Faceless, buying her time to prepare to destroy them, she worries that they've easily regained twice as many members. She still remembers that one recruit who had joined not long after the execution of Veera and Malick. Marionette, was her name. She was a strange one. Beautiful, but deadly with her iron teeth and nails. The White Demon, she had so deservingly earned. Her exquisite beauty an addition to her intimidating arsenal.

When Nox understands that Libby is done speaking, she doesn't reply nor meddle any further. She only glances at Libby before dismounting. Nox doesn't speak to her again that day, except to bark commands.

That night, when the campsite has gone quiet does Libby awaken with a gasp, a hand on her throat, cold sweat sliding down her back and pooling in the hollow beneath her mouth and chin. She'd had the nightmare before – where she has her hands tied to the whipping posts flanking her sides. And everyone she's loved, deceived and betrayed stand behind her with an iron tipped whip, their faces obscured by shadows, but it's their other traits that makes them so familiar. They take turns whipping at her back, spiting vile words at her for what she is: Traitor. Liar. Betrayer. And it was everyone. Gallus, Karliah, Brynjolf, Vex.

Diamond. Her blonde hair is beautiful with its pink-dyed tips. Her body beautifully lean in her Brotherhood uniform. She would step forward and would give the most lashings. Repeating her very same words that she had spit at Libby that night on the Emperor's ship.

"_You betrayed me!"_

The pain was blinding.

"_I lost everything because of you!"_

Through it all, Libby could only give a low, quiet laugh. She welcomes the pain. The iron tip – oh gods, it ripped her clean open, knocked her legs out from under her.

But Libby didn't fight. She deserved it.

Nauseated, Libby wraps her arms around her knees. She breathes – in and out, in and out – and tilts her head, her sharp kneecaps pushing against her cheekbone. Due to the unseasonably warm weather, they'd forgone sleeping in tents – which gives her an unparalleled view of the capital. The illuminated castle rises from the sleeping city like a mound of ice and steam. There is something bluish about it, and it seems to pulse.

Tonight – tonight is so quiet, like the calm before the storm.

She imagines the whole world sleeping tonight, enchanted by the sea-green reflection of the Karth River. Time comes and goes, mountains rising and falling, vines creeping over the slumbering city, concealing it with layers of thrones and leaves. She is the only one awake.

She pulls her cloak around her. She will kill. She'd kill, and serve the Jarl of Riften, and then vansh into nothing, and think no more of castles or kings or assasssins. She doens' wish to reign over this city again. Magic is dead, the Elves are banished or executed, and she will never again have anything to do with the rise and fall of kingdoms.

She isn't fated for anything. Not anymore.

* * *

A hand on his sword, he watches the assassin deep within the cover of the trees. There is something sad about her – sitting so still with her legs against her chest, the moonlight coloring her hair silver. No bold, swaggering expressions strutted across her face as the glow of the town's lights ripple in her eyes.

He finds her beautiful, if a bit strange and sour. It is something in the way that her eyes sparkle when she looks at something lovely in the landscape. He can't understand it.

She stares unflinchingly, her form silhouetted against the blazing brightness that sits on the edge of the Karth River. Clouds gather above them and she raises her head. Through a clearing in the swirling mass, a cluster of stars can be seen. He can't help but think that they gazed down at her.

Now, he had to remember that she was an assassin with the blessings of a pretty face and sharp wits. She washes her hands with blood, and is just as likely to slit his throat as offer him a kind word. And she is the Prince's slave. She is forced to fight for him – bribed with her freedom. And nothing more.

As he disappears into the trees, his hand still upon his sword, he leaves the campsite until it is nothing more than a speck of light in the distance.

Still, the image haunts his dreams throughout the night: a lovely girl gazing at the stars, and the stars who gazed back.

* * *

Trumpets signal their arrival as they pass through the looming alabaster walls of Solitude. Crimson flags depicting charcoal wolves flap in the wind above the capital city, the cobblestone streets are cleared of traffic, and Libby, unchained and dressed, painted, and seated in front of Nox, frowns as the odor of the city meets her nose.

Beneath the smell of spices and horses liters a foundation of filth, blood, and spoiled milk. The air holds a hint of the salty waters of the Karth River – different from the salt of Cidhna Mine. This brings with it warships from every ocean in Tamriel, merchant vessels crammed with goods and slaves, and fishing boats with half-rotted, scale-covered flesh that people somehow managed to eat. From bearded peddlers to servant girls carrying armfuls of hatboxes, everyone pauses as the flag-bearers trot proudly ahead, and Joric Ravencrone waves.

They follow the Crown Prince, who, like Nox, is swathed in a red cape, pinned over the left breast with a brooch fashioned after the Morthal royal seal. The prince wears a golden crown upon his neat hair, and she has to concede that he looks rather regal.

Young women flock to them, waving. Joric winks and grins. Libby can't help but notice the sharp stares from the same women when they behold her in the prince's retinue. She knows how she appears, seated atop a horse like some prize lady being brought to the castle.

The citizens seem rather divided at attending the parade, most are outside flanking the sides of the road, others peek out from inside their shops and taverns to gaze at her. So Libby only smiles at them, tosses her hair, and bats her eyelashes at the prince's back.

Her arm stings. "What?" he hisses at the Captain of the Guard as she pinches her.

"You look ridiculous." She says, through her teeth, smiling at the crowd.

Libby mirrors her expression. "_They're_ ridiculous."

"Be quiet and act normally." Nox breaths is not on Libby's neck.

"I should jump from the horse and run," Libby says, waving at a young man, who gapes at what he thinks is a court lady' attention. "I'd vanish in an instant."

"Such pleasant talk."

They enter the shopping district, where the crowd swells between the trees lining the broad avenues of white stone. The glass storefronts are nearly invisible beyond the crowd, but a ravenous sort of hunger arises in her as they pass shop after shop. Each window displays dresses and tunics, which stand proudly behind lines of sparkling jewelry and broad-rimmed hats clumped together like bouquets of flowers. Above it all, the Blue Palace looms, so high Libby has to tilt her head back to see the uppermost towers why had they chosen such a long and inconvenient route? Did they really wish to parade about?

Libby swallows. There is a break in the buildings, and sails spread like moth's wings greet them as they turn onto the avenue along the Karth River. Ships docked along the pier, a mess of rope and netting with sailors calling each other, too busy to notice the royal procession. At the sound of a whip, Libby's head snaps to the side.

Slaves stagger down the gangplank of a merchant ship. A mix of conquered nations bound together, each of them has the hollow, raging face she's seen so many times before. most of the salves are prisoners of war – rebels who survived the butchering blocks and endless lines of Stormcloak's armies. Some are probably people who had been caught of accused of trying to worship Talos. But others are just ordinary folk, in the wrong place at the wrong time. Now that she notices, there are countless chained slaves working the docks, lifting and sweating, holding parasols and pouring water, eyes on the ground or the sky – never on what is before them.

She wants to leap from her horse and run to them, or to simply scream that she isn't a part of this prince's court, that she has no hand in bringing them here, chained and starved and beaten, that she has worked and bled with them, with their families and friends – she is not like these monsters that destroyed everything. That she has done something, nearly five years ago, when she had freed almost two-hundred salves from a pirate lord. Even that, though, isn't enough.

The city is suddenly separate, ripped from her. People still wave and bow, cheering and laughing, throwing flowers and other nonsense before their horses. She has difficulty breathing.

Sooner than she would have liked, the iron gates of the castle appear, latticework doors open, and a dozen guards flank the cobblestone path that lads through the archway. Spears erect, they hold rectangular shields, and their eyes are dark beneath iron helmets. Each ears a red cape. Their armor, while tarnished, is well crafted from iron and leather.

Beyond the archway slopes a road, lined with trees of gold and silver. Glass lampposts sprout up between the hedges bordering the path. The sounds of the city vanish as they pass under another arch, and then the castle rises before them.

Nox sighs as she dismounts in the open courtyard. Hands pull Libby from the saddle and set her wobbly legs. Stone gleams everywhere, and a hand clamps on her shoulder. Stableboys quietly and quickly lead her horse away.

Nox pulls her to the side, keeping a firm grip on Libby's cloak as the Crown Prince approaches. "Six hundred rooms, military and servant's quarters, three gardens, a game park, and stables on either side." says Joric, staring at his home. "Who could ever need so much space?"

Libby manages a weak smile despite her heart jumping a beat at how outwardly spoken the prince is of another city's design. She always assumed that an instant one member of a royal family speaks rudely of another, it's a whole other wart that can start instantly. "At least I'm comfortable sleeping with stone." She looks up, but quickly lowers her focus to the ground. She isn't afraid of heights, but the thought of being so high up with guards all around her makes her cautious.

"Then you're nothing like me." Joric chuckles. "In Morthal, wood is the only thing around and it does so little to protect from the cold. I'd hate for you to be uncomfortable."

Deciding that scowling at him won't be the wisest decision, Libby looks instead towards the massive castle gates. The doors are made of cloudy red glass, gaping at her like the mouth of a giant. But she can see the interior is made of stone.

"Well," says Joric. "You're fattened up a bit, and your skin has some color now. Welcome to the Blue Palace, Libitania Desidenuis." He nods at a few passing nobles, who scrap and bow. "You can begin your journey tomorrow. The Thane of Elisif will show you to your chambers."

"Tomorrow? You already consider me that fit enough?"

"You don't?"

"No! Though I'm flattered by your assumptions of my strength, use your common sense." Libby snarls.

The Prince of Morthal snarls back. "Fine, one week you have to be in shape. Don't waste time here. I want this job started at once."

"As you command, _Your Highness_." Libby seethes.

Libby rolls her shoulders and searches for any sign of Thane Erikur. The Guild had had dealings with Erikur before and is the very man who is the influential foot the Guild has in Solitude. Though he has a long history with women, he knows who Libby is. The moment he tries anything, Cidhna Mine or not, she will slice of his groin and shove it down his own throat.

The prince nods to another flock of cooing courtiers, and doesn't look at either the assassin or the Captain of the Guard as he speaks again. "I have to meet with the High Queen," he says, running his gaze along the body of a particularly pretty lady. He winks at her, and she hides her face behind a lace an as she continues her walk. Joric nods to Nox. "I'll see you later tonight." Without saying a word to Libby, he strides up the steps to the palace, his red cape blowing in the breeze.

"I suppose I should leave you." Nox sighs as she adjusts her sword.

"You trust me enough already?" Libby grins.

"No, but as stated in your records, it would seem that Solitude is one of the provinces you benefit off of."

"All the more reason why it's astonishing you even suggested to leave me alone."

"As I'm sure you know too, Libitania, that should the Guild run into any trouble they don't know you."

Libby's heart drops, but she still knows that she can easily weasel her way through with her alliances and slip out through the sewers of the city. But perhaps this is a test? Or that the captain really, foolishly does trust Libby in some way. Assuming that her freedom is more worth to her than risk. Perhaps . . .

Still, with both Morthal and Solitude guards around, it's not really worth the risk. Besides, now that she's getting her body back and her skills are being sharpened she's eager for some action.

As Nox actually starts to leave her, the guards suddenly stand straighter and Libby looks up to find a cape of fur flowing towards her. Thane Erikur of Solitude is the second ranking Thane to the Jarl. He's not handsome, but more rugged with his angled features, tan skin and golden hair. More women giggle and fan themselves and Erikur winks and waves to them. He turns to Libby and his eyes widen, brows rise.

"Well, this is a pleasant surprise." He says.

Libby would snarl if it weren't for Nox still lingering at the other end of the hall, trying to seem occupied. "I wish it was under better circumstances." Libby replies.

Erikur grins, his teeth gleaming, and Libby feels ready to damn the consequences and rake her nails down his throat from where his eyes linger on her body. Still considering her state, the fact he's even bothering to look . . .

"It's remarkable to see you so, together after your sentence to Cidhna Mine."

"I'm a survivor." Libby purrs. "Comes with the profession."

"Well, then it's good to know that I'm to escort you to your chambers." He holds out his arm and gleams a smile.

"And escorting it all you'll be doing." Still, Libby links her arm with his and she's escorted into the castle.

Erikur lived up to his word. Her chambers are in a west wing of the castle, and much bigger than she anticipated. They consist of a bedroom with an attached bathing chamber and a dressing room, a small dining room, and a music and gaming room. Each room is furnished in ebony and crimson, her bedroom also decorated with a giant tapestry along one wall, with couches and deep-cushioned chairs scattered in a tasteful manner. Her balcony overlooks a fountain in one of the gardens, and whichever it was, it was beautiful – never mind the guards she spotted posted beneath.

Erikur had left him, and Libby doesn't wait to hear the door shut before closing herself in her bedroom. Between murmurs of appreciation during Erikur's brief tour of her rooms, she has counted the windows – twelve – the exits – one – and the guards posted outside her door, windows, and balcony – nine. They are each are armed with a sword, knife, and crossbow, and though they'd been alert while their captain passed by, Libby knew a crossbow wasn't exactly a light weapon to bear for hours on end.

Libby crept to her bedroom window, pressing herself against the marble wall, and glances down. Sure enough, the guards had already strapped their crossbows across their backs. It would waste precious seconds to grab the weapon and load it – seconds when she can take their swords, cut their throats, and vanish into the gardens. Libby smiles as she steps fully in front of the window to study the garden. Its far border ended in the trees of a game park. She knew enough about the castle to know that she is on the southern side, and if she goes through the game park, she'd reach a stone wall and canals beyond.

Libby opens and closes the doors of her armoire, dresser, and vanity. Of course, there aren't any weapons, not even a fire poker, but she grabs the few bone hairpins she found in a mending basket in her giant dressing room. No needles. She kneels on the carpeted floor of the dressing room – which is void of clothes – and, one eye on the door behind her, she makes quick work of the hairpins, snapping their heads off before binding them all together with the string. When she finishes, she holds up the object and frowns.

Well, it's isn't a knife, but clustered together like that, the jagged point of the broken pins can do some damage. She tests the tips with a finger, and winces as a shard of bone pricks her callous skin. Yes, it would certainly hurt if she jams it into a guard's neck. And disable him long enough for her to grab his weapons.

Libby reenters the bedroom, yawning, and stands on the edge of the mattress to tuck the makeshift weapon into one of the folds of the partial canopy over the bed. When she conceals it, she glances around the room again. Something about the dimensions seems a little off – something with the height of the walls, but she can't be sure. Regardless, the canopy provides plenty of hiding places. What else can she take without them noticing? General Tullius probably had the room looked over before they arrive. She listens at the bedroom door for any signs of activity. When she is certain no one is in her chambers, she enters the foyer and strode through it to the gaming room. She beholds the billiards cues along the far wall, and the heavy colored balls stacked on the green felt table, and grins. The General isn't nearly as smart as he thinks he is.

Ultimately, she leaves the billiards equipment, if only because it will arouse suspicion if it all disappears, but it will be easy enough to get a stick if she needs to escape, or to use the dense balls to knock a guard unconscious. Exhausted, she returns to her bedroom and finally hoists herself onto the enormous bed. The mattress is so soft that she sinks down a few inches, and it is wide enough for three people to sleep without noticing each other. Curling on her side, Libby's eyes grow heavier and heavier.

She sleeps for an hour, until a servant announces the arrival of the trailer, to outfit her with proper court attire. And thus another hour is spent being measured and pinned, and sitting through the presentation of different fabrics and colors. She hates most of them. A few catch her attention, but when she tries to recommend specific styles that flatter her, she receives only a wave of a hand and a curl of the lip. She considers jabbing one of the tailor's pearl-shaped pins through his eye. She bathes, feeling almost as dirty as she had in Cidhna Mine, and is grateful for the gentle servants who attend her. Many of the wounds had scabbed or remained as thin white line, though her back retains most of its damage. After nearly two hours of pampering – trimming her hair, shaping her nails, and scraping away the callouses on her feet and hands – Libby grins at the mirror in the dressing room.

Only in the capital can servants have done such fine work. She looks spectacular. Utterly and completely spectacular; in an intimidating kind of way. She wears an outfit of all black.

The darkness of her layered tunic with golden embroidery glints in the dim light; and is also intentionally ripped in certain places to look more detailed. The grey of her close-fitting pants is bordered with a thin line of black ornate designs down the sides, and fit smoothly into her steel poleyns, spiked greaves and turn into her ebony black boots that lie under her sabatons. Then her black-and-gold jacket, fitted with reptilian designs is of fine make. Her hair, half up and twisted with an opaque ribbon, falls in loose waves. She her smile falters as she remembers exactly why she's here.

A champion indeed. How is she supposed to train in this? Unless she isn't at all.

The finishing touch is a belt made to hold many weapons, but she's only granted a single small dagger.

"Stunning." Libby whirls around to find Joric standing in the doorway with his arms folded.

"How am I supposed to train in this?" Libby flatly ask, seemingly unimpressed by the outfit, nor the prince standing in her doorway.

"You're not."

"So you're whole point of starting my journey tomorrows was rather pointless on your part."

The prince holds up one hand. "I'll admit I was misinformed. So after your week of training, then I will reveal to you the location of Boethiah's former Champion."

"So what will happen tonight?" Libby asks as she approaches the prince, well aware of the guards outside her room.

"Basically, I'm going to show you off tonight at the Queen's royal dinner." The prince smiles.

"I'm nobody's lapdog." Libby snarls.

"I never said you were, but don't tell me you're not eager to watch the guards stiffen at your presence."

Libby can't fight the partial smile on her lips. "I thought you said no one knew who I was."

"No one outside your ring of connections."

"But those are everywhere." Libby crosses her arms, the distance between her and the prince no more than two feet.

"I said no one knows you as Skyrim's Assassin. But _everyone_ knows you as the Master of the Thieves Guild." The prince grins slyly. "The title just as, or maybe even more intimidating since the Dark Brotherhood, and even the Faceless use the Guild's connections around Skyrim."

Libby shrugs but still smiles. "Am I to just stand in and listen?"

"As every guard should be." The prince pushes off the wall and extends out his arm.

Despite the roll in her eyes, Libby links her arm with his as they start to head down the hall.

That night, of all the dinners she'd ever attended, this way is by far the worst and most insufferable. Not because of the company – which she grudgingly admits, somewhat interesting – and not because the food, which looks and smell wonderful, but simply because she can't _eat_ anything. She was granted a meal before she had gotten changed as part of her being on guard duty of the entire three hours.

She lounges against a pillar by the patio doors, cleaning her nails with her dagger. The guards had stiffened when they beheld her in her fully glory; or rather her Guild glory. Their rigid attention accompanied well with the shocked and pale faces of the court as the Prince of Morthal proudly strode into the room arm-in-arm with her. Though the moment they had come to the front of the double doors, Libby made her face skillfully neutral.

Almost everyone seemed to straighten their spines and clear their throats. The Prince of Joric simply smiled proudly as he strode towards his seat at the long table, Libby two steps behind him. Nox is there, but she stayed in the corner with the rest of the bodyguards, a hand on her sword. Once Joric had taken his seat, his smile wide enough to mimic a grimace, he was the one who actually started the meeting as everyone's eyes stayed upon Libby as she folded her arms and took her position behind the Prince.

Besides Erikur, Libby did recognize a couple other of the esteemed councilmen as they cast anxious glances at her. She nods to them. They had hired her, separately, to kill the same man. Oh, she'd keep their secrets; it will tarnish her reputation otherwise. She smiles at one of the Lords, who looks away. Her gaze shifts to another man, who she finds staring at her, his skin as pale as death.

Erikur says something to the three ladies in front of him - and they idiotically giggle again. Listening to him flirt, watching him grin at these girls, Libby doesn't know whether she wants to punch him or walk away. But years of stalking from the shadows keeps her from doing anything other than looking completely bored.

She glances around the room once more, her eyes especially on the High Queen. Eyes would flick over to her when tnhey thought she was staring at them, but Libby only keeps her gaze elsewhere.

Let Nox and Joric think whatever they please. Really, Libby feels pity for the woman. Widowed at the hands of a control-maniac bastard, and now she's responsible for the progress of an entire empire that she represents.

Libby can't help but feel that their lives are similar. Losing a loved one and then left in charge of an empire; even if Libby's empire is a bit darker in nature. Sensing the prince's attention, Libby meets his gaze.

Nothing. Not a hint of emotion. She can feel the princes nerves flare as she turns back towards Elisif, her features becoming softer. More contemplative. And her attention stays there.

She watches the Jarl as she speaks with the table of councilmen. The only other woman apart from her is her other female Thane Bryling. It would seem her ideas and suggestions are either shot down or are carefully reworded by the other male members so that it's not as legitimate to others. But Libby had counted at least three plans that she reviewed and examined as successful, only the feel her anger grow as she heard the General or the Thanes deny it.

Elisif was the High Queen! Despite her inexperience, her ideas are rather impressive, and her word should be law! Finally, after Libby had heard her proclamation of increasing the space of the Mines of Skyrim get denied by Erikur saying the slaves of the mine don't need special treatment, Libby damns them all to hell.

She pushes off of the pillar and slowly saunters her way around the room. The moment she moved, everyone's eyes flicked to her though they kept their posture as calm as they could as she strode around. Guards put their hands to their swords and Libby can only smile mischievously as she grips the back of Jarl Elisif's chair.

The High Queen stiffens but thankfully doesn't call the guards as Libby leans in and whispers in her ear. Libby keeps her voice low, and feels immense relief when she sees the Queen's shoulders relax. She even turns her head towards Libby and keeps her voice low enough only for Libby to hear.

Libby keeps her face calm and friendly enough that the Queen actually smiles and gives a soft giggle as she and Libby exchange their conversation. After a couple more nods and a harsh clearing of the throat from General Tullius, the Queen's eyes flick to him, and Libby simply stands and takes a couple steps back behind the Elisif and folds her hands behind her back. She keeps her attention on the Queen still as she feels all the eyes on her.

"I've decide to rebuttal the argument focusing on the mines of Skyrim under Empire influence." Elisif starts. "I will not be comparable to those men who claim they fight for freedom when they imprison our soldiers in horrid condition with inhumane treatment. I will not stoop to their level."

The attention of the councilmen direct from Libby to the Queen, but Libby doesn't grant them her attention, not even Joric. Nox is in the corner, her face nearly bright pink.

"I want the slaves – laborers –" the Queen corrects herself. "to be given three two meals a day, with rest periods of ten minutes. Punishments of whippings will be permissible to only violence, and thievery shall be condemned to solitary confinement."

Well, it was a start. Libby can't deny that the mines and camps are brutal, and sometimes kindness isn't enough to simply stop the violence without the prisoners taking advantage of it or not taking the guards seriously. Libby won't argue that whippings work, as she can vouch for. Still, there are some treatments that if the Queen knew about in the mines, she'd free everyone instantly or at least make immediate changes.

The men of the table begin to, calmly argue one another. All besides Joric seem to object the idea.

He was there. He's seen the slaves. The mass graves and the blood-stained whipping posts. The hopeless look in all of their eyes, and the conditions and treatment of the innocents.

He knows.

When the councilmen's voices cease with a raise of Elisif's hand, Libby puts her own on the hilt of her sword, taking one step closer. That silences them instantly.

"The subject is not up for debate." Elisif demands. Libby feels a wave of pride run through her at the confidence in the Queen's voice. "I want word out to the camps within Empire territory immediately. Then send out officers of inspection to assess the conditions."

Libby takes another step closer as one councilman seems ready to object. Then even Libby is surprised when the Queen turns her attention to Libby.

"Libitania, you are dismissed for now. Expect a visit later so that we may discuss the matter further."

Then the High Queen smiles – actually smiles at the assassin – and Libby smiles back, and bows dramatically to the High Queen before she leaves the room. She prepares herself for the worst as Nox's voice sounds from behind her. Hopefully she won't be too brutal.

It's only ten steps later does Libby feel her arm gripped harsh and she's wrenched to face the pink face of the Captain. Libby doesn't have an expression on her face, she remains as blank as a puppet as she says. "Ow."

"_What the hell were you thinking_!?" Nox seethes through grit teeth. Her lips are white and her grip tightens enough that Libby winces. Still she doesn't draw a dagger nor does she try to pry herself free.

"I was saying what needed to be said." Libby flatly replies.

"It is not your place to give your opinion!"

"I couldn't just stand idly by while her court is ruled by a male opinion!" Libby shouts back. "You saw it, Nox. She wasn't being taken as seriously as she deserves!"

Nox's face softens ever so slightly. Enough that she sighs, easing the red of her face and her grip loosening, but not releasing.

"She is High Queen, Nox. She deserves the respect just as any other Jarl in the provinces! But no, they only deny her because they fear she is inexperienced."

"Playing a sex card are you?" Nox growls with annoyance.

"No. I'm just doing what I think is right. Especially when it comes to the camps and mines. And don't you _dare_ say that it is not my place there." Libby says with her voice low and with deadly calm. "I've been to one. I know what it's like. And while these changes are minor, if we ever get any Stormcloak prisoners, with this treatment, they will surely favor the empire."

Nox gives a raise of her eyebrows, unconvinced.

"It's not much, but some of those people, Nox . . . a majority are innocence who did nothing wrong but be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Like the Dragonborn." Libby says.

Like that Khajiit woman from Elsweyr. Like that Argonian male from Black Marsh. That Dunmer child from the Morrowind. The Brenton from High Rock. Countless innocents, captured, whipped, tortured, beaten.

Libby fights against the quiver in her lip and the moisture in her eyes. "It's a small step, Nox. But it's a step." Nox remains quiet. "I will not apologize for what I did. And I will not regret it."

Finally, Libby takes a step back and her arm slides from Nox's grip. She stares at Nox and takes a breath.

"I'm going to my chambers." Is all she says before she turns her back towards the captain and continues down the hallway. The muffled sound of her footsteps on the long runner rug her only company.

When she returns to her chambers for the night, she makes sure to lock her doors. Sighing, Libby calls to her servants to draw her bath. An evening of reading on the balcony beckons. Someone had taken it upon themselves to fill the bookshelves of Libby's spacious suite with countless books and novels, including at least ten from the High Queen's personal library that she had recently read and enjoyed immensely; and she "commanded" that Libby read them so that they may discuss them, while also granting Libby permission to read as many of the books in the castle as she wishes.

Libby doesn't recognize any of the titles, though one author was familiar. Choosing the book that seems the most interesting, Libby hops over to her bed, flips onto her back and begins to read.

By midnight, she simply remembers laying her head back onto the pillow and a pressure of a book on her chest.

She doesn't dream that night.

The following dawn, Libby's bedroom door opens, and a familiar stalking gait echoes through the room. Nox stops short when she finds the assassin dangling from the beam of the bedroom doorway, repeatedly hoisting herself up to touch her chin to the wooden bar. Sweat soaks her underclothes and runs in rivulets down her pale skin. She's been exercising for an hour already. Her arms quiver as he lifts himself again.

Though she may be the best out of her own group, there is no reason to train like this. Even if every repetition makes her body scream for her to stop. Libby isn't that out of shape at all – after all, her pickax had been heavy. And it definitely has nothing to do with her outbreak in the council meeting yesterday.

Libby already has an edge on them. She just needs it to be a bit sharper.

She doesn't pause her exercising as she smiles at the Captain of the Guard, panting through her clenched teeth. To his surprise, Nox smiles back.


	6. Chapter 5

Continuing with her routines of workouts, Libby dedicates her mornings to sprinting through the castle's game park, proud she can go farther and farther each day without stopping for breath. Then she eats the meals she is given before training in a private room far from observing eyes. That is until she collapses to the ground and cries that she is about to die of hunger and fatigue. During so, the knives remain her favorite, but the wooden staff becomes ear; naturally, it has to do with the fact that she can freely whack at the guard's and not chop off an arm.

Nox always comes for lunch, and afterward, she joins the assassin for a few more hours of training under her watchful eye. Since her private exchange with the Queen in the council meeting, not only has Libby received glares at the male councilmen of the court, but the Queen herself even showed up to Libby's room three times this week, and the two simply discussed political issues, the books she had sent to the assassin and simple talk of gossip. Though Libby doesn't prefer to, with her line of work, knowing everyone's business is part of her Guild job.

She still hasn't heard much from the Guild since her departure of Cidhna Mine, and since people seem to recognize her as Guild Master, surely word would get to them quicker than a courier can run.

That could also mean that the Faceless had found out about it too. And though Zusa isn't one to argue with royalty, Libby had a feeling that Joric was facing serious accusations with Zusa, only to hope that because of his title as prince is the only thing that has kept him from the Faceless' butchering block. Zusa doesn't like when her word is overlooked, and the Faceless are not above killing members of a royal family.

When Nox had found out her gathering with the Queen, the argument was one for the ages; especially considering that Nox is practically challenging the High Queen. With Elisif taking the blame of her attendance, the only compromise is that there will be guards surrounding her should she meet with Libby. Neither minded much, so long as none of their gossip had left the room.

Libby does not disappoint.

By the end of the week, Libby had exceeded _anyone's_ expectations. She is incredible now, so fast that even the Queen's fastest dogs have trouble keeping up with her. She can scale a wall with ease, and has even demonstrated by climbing up to her own balcony with nothing but her bare hands.

It innerves Joric, especially when he remembers she is only twenty-two. He wonders if this is how she'd been before Cidhna Mine. She never hesitates when she spars with Nox, but she seems to sink far within herself, into a place that is calm and cool, but also angry and burning. She can kill anyone, perhaps even Ulfric Stormcloak, in a matter of seconds.

But when she becomes the Daedra's Champion, can they let her loose into Skyrim once more? Joric is fond of her, but he doesn't know if he can sleep at night knowing that he had retrained and released the world's greatest assassin.

But at least she is smart and knows when to pick her battles instead of those who merely slice at another person's throat whenever they can. Libby actually can think.

On the last day of the week, when the castle itself had gone still for the night, Libby had dreamt. She gapes at the ground. She knew these sharp, gray rocks – knew how they crunched beneath her feet, how they smelled after the rain, how they could so easily cut into her skin when she is thrown down. The rocks stretched for miles, rising into jagged, fang-like mountains that pieced the cloudy sky. In the frigid wind, she has little clothing that protects her from its stinging gusts. As she touches the dirty rags, her stomach rises in her throat.

She pivots, shackles clanking, and takes in the desolate waste that is Cidhna Mine.

In front of her, she finds a crowd of familiar faces, all of them armed. Libby quakes as she finds them all armed. Leading the crowd, it's her father with his face shadowed, but she can decipher disappointment, then it's Karliah and Brynjolf; his features handsome with his sharp features and red hair stretching down into his jawline. Then Diamond, beautiful, wonderful, and gleaming in her Brotherhood uniform; two duel swords in each of her hands. Behind them, she can see the rest of her guild members, and the lives of everyone she had stolen and then men she doesn't recognize. Despite it being the people she's known, Libby can see their hatred for her in their eyes.

They start to advance towards her.

Libby's breathing becomes ragged as she struggles to rip the chain that binds her shackles. Libby starts running, the stone scraping her feet, the feelings making her clench her teeth. She feels moisture of her blood as she runs, but she doesn't acknowledge it as she hears the fast-moving footsteps behind her.

She trips on something and stumbles down a hill of stone, the jagged pieces sticking to her like glass and prickling her skin. Blood oozes from her arms and towards the end of the hill does she slide and feels the flesh of her arms rip like tissue.

At the end of the hill, darkness embraces her.

The darkness has no end and no beginning.

It is the abyss that has haunted her steps for ten years, and she free-falls into it,

There is no sound, only the vague sense of going toward a bottom that might not exist, or that might mean her true end. Maybe her should was forever trapped here, in this plunging darkness.

Perhaps this is hell.

Then there is blood everywhere.

Libby stands between two bloodied beds, reeking breath caressing her ear, her neck, her spine. She can feel something roving around her, circling with predator's gait devouring her misery and pain bit by bit, tasting and savoring.

There is no way out, and she cannot move as she looks from on bed to the other.

Diamond's corpse, mangled and mutilated. And her mother, throats slit from ear to ear, grey and lifeless. Dead from an attack they should have sensed. An attack _she_ should have sensed. Maybe she had sensed it, and that I why she had crept in that night. But she had been too late.

Two beds. Two fractures in her soul, cracks through which the abyss has come pouring in long before whatever creature had seized her.

"This is not real," Libby says aloud, backing away from the bed on which she is standing like a ghost. "_This is not real_."

A claw scrapes along her neck and she jerks away, stumbling towards her mother's corpse.

Here in the dark, the silence is complete – eternal. She can feel something slinging around her, hungry and eager and full of cold, ancient malice. She expects to have the life sucked out from her instantly, but it just stays close in the dark, brushing up against her like a cat, until a faint light has formed and Libby finds herself between these two beds. She is unable to look away, unable to do anything but feel her nausea and panic rise bit by bit. And now . . . now . . .

Though her body remains unmoving on the bed, Diamond's voice whispers. _Bitch_.

Libby vomits. A faint, hoarse laugh behind her.

She backs up, farther and farther from the bed where Diamond lies. Then she is standing in a sea of red – red and white and grey, and –

She now stands like a wraith in her mother's bed, where she had lain ten years ago, awakening to her corpse to the servant woman's screaming. It is those screams she can hear now, high and endless, and – _Bitch_.

Libby falls against the headboard, as real and smooth and cold has she remembered it. There is nowhere else for her to go. It is a memory – these are not real things.

She presses her palms against the wood, fighting her building scream. _Bitch_. Diamond's voice again fills the room. Libby squeezes her eyes shut and says into the wall. "Shut up. Shut up."

The darkness is rippling now, shifting with sound and color that she passes through. She lives through each image, each memory worse than the next. Diamond's face when she saw her standing next to Zusa, her father's mutilated body; her final conversation with her friend, Diamond's tear-stained face full of happiness when she discovered Libby alive. The hatred that devoured her instantly when Diamond discovered the truth.

Libby stumbles through the maelstrom of the moments when she had ultimately destroyed her friend.

This is hell – and looks like hell, as she sees the bloodbath she'd created on the da she rampaged through Cidhna Mine. The screams of the dying – the men she'd cut apart – tore at her like phantom hands.

She went mad during her first day Cidhna Mine.

Went mad as the descent slows and she is stripped and strapped between two blood-splattered posts. The cold air nipping at her bare breasts, a bite that is nothing compared to the terror and agony as a whip cracks and –

Libby jerks against the chains binding her. She scarcely has time to draw in a breath before the crack sounds again, cleaving the world like lightning, cleaving her skin.

"Bitch." Diamond says behind her, the whip cracks. "Traitor." The pain is blinding. "Look at me." Libby can't lift her head, though. Can't turn. "_Look at me_."

Libby sags against her chains, but manages to look over her shoulder.

Diamond is whole, beautiful and untouched, her eyes full of damning hatred. And them from behind her emerges her father Gallus, handsome and tall. His death had been similar to her mother's, and yet so much worse. She hadn't saved him, either. When Libby beholds the iron-tipped whip in his hands, when he steps past Diamond and lets the whip unfurl onto the rocky earth, Libby lets out a whimper of despair.

She can only prepare herself as Gallus takes a deep breath, clothes shifting with the movement as he snaps the whip. The iron-tip – oh gods, it rips her clean open, knocks her legs out from underneath her.

"Stop." Libby begs to him, the word a little more than a rasp. "_Stop_."

Gallus snarls. There is only the thud of leather on wet flesh as Gallus and Diamond take turns, and a line of people forms behind them, waiting for what they deserve as payment for what she had failed to do.

Such a long line of people. So many lives she had taken and deceived.

Where was Joric? Where was Nox? This has to be a dream.

"You're disappointing." says a light, female voice, and Libby jerks her head up to find an unworldly gorgeous woman standing in front of her.

The woman wears a crown. It isn't a tacky, enormous thing, but rather a slender peak with a blue gem embedded in the center – the only jewel on her head. Layers of gleaming ebony drape and cling to the curvatures of her slight though tall frame, and it is as though the fabric is made from moonlight. A gauzy white veil of lace black covers her head, like a cerement of a grave. She is beautiful. Luminescent, like a silver cut from a dying star. Trails of gently curing hair, thick and raven black, tumbles past the length of her fingertips, a stark combination to the black. Behind the veil, two large onyx eyes stare fixedly at Libby. Her skin is white as marble.

"I expected better for someone to represent me." she snarls.

Libby's heart sinks and she worries she might vomit again.

Boethiah. The Daedra Prince. Right here in front of her.

The woman moves towards her, the veil falling away from her face as she draws closer. She is dark beauty perfected, her cheekbones high and regal. Her skin holds the sheen of starlight and her hair, dark, massy waves of silk, seem to float about her like a black halo. It is her eyes, though, almost alien in essence, that holds Libby so transfixed. Fringed with dark lashes, twin wells of bottomless ink, they trap her, and Libby finds herself no longer able to blink.

"When Joric offered you to me, I was . . . pleased. But now this is nothing more than a waste of my time."

Despite the pain still stinging her back, and her whipping ceased, Libby's lips contort into a snarl.

"Now that's what I wanted. That's the flame that had attracted me before."

"A fire that burns so bright must go out sometime." Libby spites.

"All the more reason why yours should still burn." Another woman's voice speaks. Libby knows this voice.

Nocturnal.

The other Daedra steps out from behind Boethiah. Her long ebony robe pools at her feet and her birds rest on her shoulders and dainty white hand. "Get up." She demands.

Libby shakes her head.

Nocturnal reaches a hand for the assassin, straining for her, bridging that rift in the foundation of the world. "Get up."

No, she will not disappoint her Lady of the Shadows. Her Guild. Herself. She will not beg. She will fight. Like she had in Cidhna Mine, only this time, she will have control. She will represent Boethiah and Nocturnal, and she will make them proud.

A tremor in the darkness.

Libby lowers her head and squeezes her eyes shut. She takes a deep breath and focuses on a faint buzzing in the middle of her chest. She watches the spark flicker and pop into a small flame. She watches the flame turn purple and imagines in bolting to life and swirling out towards her like a vortex, sweeping itself over her entire form and warming her to the core.

She opens her eyes and can feel her power in her eyes. Behind her she hears the hiss of her doppelganger hiss. Flicking her wrists, Libby feels the chains in her palms. She lifts her head to the Daedric Princes. Boethiah seems cautious, Nocturnal just smiles.

Libby grips her chains and gives a yank that induces all of her strength. The stone posts snap and crumple in half like toothpicks. She savors the feeling of power that runs up her spine and spreads its way towards her shoulders. When she opens her eyes, she can see the power behind her eyes.

She turns towards her loved ones, which aren't her loved ones anymore; but demons masked with their skin. They hiss at Libby and their nails morph into black claws.

Libby grimly smiles as she feels the chains slowly morph into the two intricately engraved swords. Her cuffs stretch and slowly eat away their rust until they shine like new into ornately steel vambraces. The darkness around her trickles like shadows of her Faceless cape, though this time they bend her to command, and she can feel them morph into new clothing and weapons that make her a waling arsenal. Composed of the shadows, she can feel the long sleeves of her tunic, the comfortable fit of her pants, the firmness of her boots, and the warmth and smooth flow of her long cape falling graciously into a curtain of black at her shoulders. The blades of her swords glow a faint but beautifully colored blue.

The demons hiss, and Libby smiles.

She sends two daggers flying at the closets demons near her. They go down and she goes up – two more daggers thrown at two more demons looking like Cynric and Vex. Libby grips the head of the Vex double and snaps her head to the side. When she hears the pop of bone, she flips over her, landing on the ground in front of the other demons as several arrows strike the back of demon Vex's back.

The demons are shouting, some fleeing for the safety of the darkness while others rush at her, weapons drawn. And The Daedric Princes watch in pride and awe as Libby spins her two swords and unleashes herself upon the demons.

They don't stand a chance.

Libby is a whirlwind of blue blood and steel. She cuts through the demons like they are wheat grass against a scythe. They try to hide, but Nocturnal waves her hand and the shadows retreat, leaving behind whiteness that beholds the light of reality.

Blood that is not her own soaks her clothes, her hands, her neck, but all she can feel is the white-hot triumph that blazes through her like a pallid but powerful ablaze.

Swordplay to her is like dancing – certain steps must be followed or else it will fall apart. Once she hears the beat, it all comes rushing back. she withdraws, feints, her feet jabbing and flexing on the floor with birdlike grace.

As she slices the throat of the Brynjolf demon, then stabbing her blade into his heart, she hears Boethiah laugh with amusement and pride. Yanking her blade out, Libby gaze around and finds Diamond the only one left. Libby's heart skips a beat, but remembering none of this is real, but a test of her will, she charges forward.

Suddenly, the Diamond doppelganger's face turns to fear – as it should; but then her arms whip out to the side and she's sent flying back by some invisible force. Libby skirts to a stop and finds the demon pinned against a pillar that bears the etchings of Oblivion. The demon thrashes, helpless against the magical force that holds her. She whimpers and whines. Libby turns to look over her shoulder and finds the Daedric Princes approaching her.

Her right hand glows a heavenly white and Libby looks to discover her long knives evaporating into plumes of dust. Though the one in her right hand shrinks and the blade goes serrated and rigid into what she knows as the Blade of Sacrifice. Upon initiation, Libby had read that a tribute must lead a deceived friend to the sacrificial pillar atop Boethiah's shrine, and then offered to the Prince.

The warmth of the blood runs down Libby's face, dripping at her chin. Without needing to be told, Libby grips the hilt of the dagger and approaches the demon. She has Diamond's eyes, her hair, and her soft feature of youth. Libby grimly grins.

Spinning the blade, she thrusts it into the demon's chest. The body shudders and gags, Libby only squinting her eyes as the blood splatters on her face and across her chest. Yanking the dagger out, Libby grips the demon by the hair and swipes her blade across its throat. It gags on its own blood, streaming it across its lips and dribbling like drool down her chin.

Libby takes the blade once more to the gash on the neck and slices again, this time decapitating the demon's head. Its head is caught in a scream of pain, and once the body collapses from the pillar, sloshing to the gaping floor, Libby tosses the head like garbage.

She turns back to the Daedric Princes and approaches. She stops two feet in front of Boethiah and kneels down with her hands out, giving her the blade, her head bowed low.

"Well done." The Daedric Prince purrs. "You have proven the strength of your will and your tongue's gift for lies." Libby doesn't flinch as she feels a clawed finger tuck her hair, crisp with dried blood, behind her ear. "You have shown ferocity and prowess in combat."

"I am but your humble servant, my Lord." Libby mutters, her voice sounding not her own. Distant and cold.

"Now the time has come for your final proving. Are you able to cast aside your honor and strike with the hidden blade?" the Prince asks.

"Honor" is a coward's tool."

She hears Boethiah chuckle. Her arms ache, but she holds them steady even as she feels the blue blood slide down the length of her arm and into her armpit. "My previous champion displeases me." The clawed finger traces down her jawline. "It is time he is replaced – in the traditional fashion."

"Who is he?"

"I loathe to utter his name . . . one cannot erase a thing if it has a name to be remembered." She seethes with acidic hatred. "

"Where can I find him?"

"You will find him holed up at Knifepoint Ridge, where he plays king to bandits and highwaymen."

"Say no more." Libby dares to lift her eyes to the Prince, only to find those soulless eyes staring at her, and a viscous grin on the Prince's lips. "He is as good as dead."

"Kill every member of his band. Do so as silently and invisibly as you can, for this is not about you. You are to be _my_ instrument in this." The Prince holds her chin. "Slay him in a coldest of blood. Do not give him the dignity of defending himself."

Libby matches her evil grin, a cold ice flowing through her veins from the Prince's touch.

"Once his corpse lies cold upon the ground, and all trace of his followers erased, retrieve my Ebony Mail. A gift fit only for my _true_ Champion."

After another moment of gazing into the Daedra's eyes, she vanishes in a plume of black smoke. Nocturnal still stands as Libby rises to her feet. She stared at the Prince, suddenly feeling hollow and tired . . . So, so tired.

"Walk with the Shadows." Is all she says before her birds fly around her and she's gone in a wisp of feathers.

Closing her eyes to take a breath, Libby's moment of peace isn't cherished as she feels the sensation of falling once more, the feeling of the ground rushing towards her.

And then –

Libby inhales deeply as her eyes fly open and she's staring at the ceiling of her chambers in the Blue Palace of Solitude. Sweat drenches her skin, and even pooled into the sheets beneath her. Her silk nightgown sticks plastered to her back as she carefully rises to a sitting position.

The room wobbles, and she reaches for her glass of water on her bedside table. She takes delicate sips as her head settles. She then slips out of her bed and discards her nightgown, welcoming the cooling breeze that tickles her breasts. Her skin is void of blood and she reaches behind her back to find the three large scars still down her back.

She feels different, she won't deny that. She feels, not lighter but . . . stronger. Hurrying her way towards her dressing room, Libby looks in the mirror and is surprised at what she sees.

It would seem her year spent in Cidhna Mine had never happened.

Her skin was perfectly tan and she has gained nearly all of her assumed weight back, giving her more accentuated curves and her muscles . . . by the gods her muscles, they are bigger and more toned than ever before; even before her time with the Faceless and Guild. But she still looks, feminine. The green in her hazel eyes shine brightly like evergreen with the brown around her pupil deepened with a passion that she can't even pinpoint the source from.

Her hair is shining brilliantly, trickling around her head and shoulders in smooth waves. Her features are sharper, her cheeks lightly patted with color. Her body has more curves now, in all the right places, her bum perfectly shaped as well as her breasts. Examining herself in the mirror, Libby can't help but giggle.

It would seem the Princes had blessed her with more than their blessings of triumph and power.

Feeling rather, rambunctious as well as giddy with excitement, Libby ruffles through her clothes to find the most fitting but still useful pieces of clothing.

Despite her lack of color, the outfit composing of all black, she makes due and is rather proud at her result. Everything in her outfit is fitted. Her short-sleeved tunic with delicate silver embroidery, to her elbow-length gloves under her set of steel gauntlets that match the ones she had in her dream. Her pants are fitted with multiple straps to hold a large variety of weapons, and her ebony black boots gleam with more buckles and straps and reach up to her knees. Her hair she leaves down, but makes sure to add a few makeshift knives composed of hairpins and sewing needles before she places her shining steel greaves and poleyns over them.

When she steps out into the hall, she smiles at the guards who stare at her wide-eyed. "Morning gentlemen." She winks.

Color flushes their cheeks as she makes her way down towards the throne room where no doubt the Prince of Morthal and the Captain of the Guard await with Jarl Elisif. Why no one had bothered to send someone for her Libby doesn't know. But she feels invincible today, and the world had better watch out.

Skyrim's Assassin is back.


	7. Chapter 6

The guards standing outside the throne room look to her and their eyes widen and mouths drop to the floor. She flashes them her most seductive smile along with a bat of her eyelashes as she sets her now dainty but still callus hands onto the crimson doors.

Upon hearing the groaning of the massive doubles doors, all heads turn to Libby, and she watches their faces mimic the guards'. Joric nearly drops the scroll he is holding at the sight of her adorned in her fitted black attire and the fresh color on her skin. Nox, still with her hand on the hilt of her sword watches with the rest of the councilmen as she approaches the throne.

Queen Elisif stares astonished at Libby even as the assassin comes forth, stopping just before the dais and lowering to one knee.

"Good morning, your Majesty." Libby speaks.

"And to you, Libitania. Rise." She says, and Libby can tell she's trying not to quake her voice. Truly she has nothing to be afraid of; Libby would never hurt her, especially now after their relationship has shifted to the lines of friendly. "You seem . . . different." She hints.

Libby nonchalantly shrugs her shoulders. "I had a good night sleep." She then turns to the Prince of Morthal, still flushed with color. "I'm ready to find her Champion."

"Are you sure?" Joric asks.

"Were you not the one who said my time limit was one week? I'm ready. And I want to go now."

Joric looks to Nox who only shakes her head. He then turns back to Libby and clears his throat. "Well then, if you insist." he turns to the Queen. "If your Majesty will excuse us –"

"No need." Libby interrupts. "I know where he's hiding."

Joric's expression changes in an instance. He goes from being shocked and entranced by her, to seriousness but mischievously calming. His stare is a challenge. "Do you, now?"

Libby starts to stroll her way away from the High Queen. "Knifepoint Ridge, back out in The Reach. Quite an unnecessary journey considering how close we were before. But, I can make it there." Libby turns her head towards the Queen, making sure to soften her expression. "If her Majesty would be so kind to offer me a noble steed."

"How dare you address her as such –!" Nox starts, but Elisif holds up her hand to silence the Captain immediately.

"Very well, Libitania. I shall grant you a Charrolian Stallion to take with you on your travels. Personally a favorite of mine, bred and brought all the way from the city itself."

Libby watches her smile as the expression of surprise spreads across everyone's face, including the assassin's. "Oh, no there's no need for that . . ."

"Nonsense." Queen Elisif rises from her throne, boldly steps down from the dais and up to the assassin. "She is a beautiful mare and doesn't get the attention and travels she deserves." The Queen takes Libby's hands. "Consider her yours, a gift from me and as a thank you."

Libby merely shakes her head, her mouth still slightly agape in surprise.

"You were the only other person who even considered my ideas, ever. I know many people consider me inexperienced and possessing little knowledge of political events; so having you there to support my idea, given your . . . experience, it's reassuring that I do know what I am doing." The Queen smiles gently and Libby can feel a small smile on her lips as she layers her hand over the Queen's.

"You have great potential to be a ruler, Your Majesty. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. In fact, you give me hope of what the world can be. And what the world ought to be. Who knows, you might even be the first to end this putrid war."

"You have a bright spirit, though I can see the trouble within you. You have showed me true friendship, Libitania, even when you didn't have to. With your permission, I'd like to retain this friendship, and so, my doors will always be welcome to you when your burden become too heavy to bear."

Libby is held in place. She can feel the warmth of the Queen's friendship fall over her like a glimmering veil. She shifts her hands to hold the Queen's and eases down to her knee, bowing her head. "I than you, Your Majesty. I am truly honored you consider me worthy of such a title."

Elisif squeezes Libby's hand and pulls her to stand. The Queen kisses the assassin's brow. "You shall always have a home here."

She then releases Libby's hands and gives clap of her hand. "Now," she says brightly. "I'd hate to disturb you any further from your journey. Please, take my mare and ride out towards your destination."

Libby bows once more. "It was an honor, Queen Elisif."

"The honor is mine. Also feel free to help yourself to my armory. Whatever you need, you shall have."

With that, Libby smiles and walks he way out of the throne room. She casts a glance towards Nox and Joric, before she pushes her way through the groaning doors. Once she had helped herself to whatever weapons she could, as permitted by the Queen, they follow her down towards the tables where Libby finds the Charrolian Stallion saddled and ready to go.

Libby mounts the horse with ease, coiling the leather reins around her hands. Nox stands off the side, patting the horse's neck and adjusting the reins. The Crown Prince approaches, his eyebrows furrowed. He takes Libby's hand and she looks towards him. "Be careful."' He says,

"You know who you're talking to?" Libby slyly grins.

"I'm serious."

"So am I. But I will." Libby answers.

The Prince's grip tightens. "Do whatever you can to ruin them. And again, don't disappoint me." He says. Libby can't shake the feeling of unease as she hears how deep his voice goes, and how icy cold his eyes become when he speaks to her. Perhaps there's more to this Prince than she had anticipated.

"I'm rather insulted you underestimate my talents." Libby forces her catlike smile.

"Once you get the Ebony Mail, as well as Boethiah's respect, go straight to Whiterun. Remember, you have one month." The Prince then brings Libby's hand to his lips to kiss it. The feeling is soft and warm. "Two because I'm feeling generous."

"I appreciate the kindness."

"Report to me when you're done, and we shall discuss the rest of your contract for Riften." Libby nods and the Prince releases her hand. "Good luck, Libitania."

Libby nods to the prince and looks over to Nox. "No friendly goodbye from you?" she grins.

Nox looks up from her position leaning against one of the wooden posts, her arms crossed. "You speak as if we were friends." She says.

Libby feels her heart drop and anger build up, but as she's about to make a venomous reply, Nox then chuckles softly before she gives Libby a smile. "I'd wish you luck, but I don't think you need it. But still, mind yourself, Libitania."

Relaxing her shoulders, Libby returns the Captain's smile. She turns the mare towards the cobblestone path towards the castle gates. The Prince and Captain follow Libby up to the iron gates, from there, the guards open the gates wide, their hinges whining. Libby walks the mare in the streets, citizens stepping out of her way, watching her with gazes diverting from envy, to jealousy to astonishment.

Libby makes the quickest stop at the mansion she owns in Solitude, a few blocks from the palace. It's more like a summer home, and Libby merely pays for the upkeep on it, still after she greets her housecarl with polite conversation, she retrieves her Nightingale cloak. Karliah allowing her to take more than one attire should something happen to another. And things usually do.

Then when she had gotten captured, Libby made sure to also hide away her father's Nightingale sword under the cement blocks in the basement of the home. She still finds the sword, wrapped in a thick tarp, the blade still gleaming with its enchantment.

She then remounts her horse and snaps the reins driving the horse into a trot. Keeping her hood down, the cape billows out behind her in a wave of blackness. When she makes it through the gates, as the horse continues her trot, Libby pulls out her map and makes the location of Knifepoint Ridge.

Her determination takes her to a place where she only knew three things: that the Ebony Mail awaits her, that she is a weapon forged to end lives, and that no one is going to walk out of that Ridge alive.

She make it across the forest quickly and efficiently, a predator's stealth keeping her steps quiet on the dirt trails. She had since parked her Carrolian stallion in Rorikstead. The stable owner surprised to find someone like her riding in on such a gorgeous hose.

She had taken every weapon she could fit onto her, including her fathers' sword and Karliah's bow, which are both strapped across her back with a second sword of the Queen's armory, the two hilts within easy reach over her shoulders. From there down, she is a living armory.

When she nears the entrance to Knifepoint, which is also part of a mine, her features concealed with her dark cloak and heavy hood, she scales the trunks of a tree until she reaches the middle concealed within the green leaves.

Boethiah wanted her to kill them with stealth. Libby leaps across the branches from tree to tree, her supple boots finding easy purchase on the wrinkled limbs, listening, watching, _feeling_ the night around her. The usual sounds of the forest greets her as she approaches the enormous expanse of the woods: birds viscously chirping to one another, the sounds of a squirrel foraging around in the grass for food, the whispering of the leaves in the breeze from the north . . .

But there is a silence around the mine, a bubble of quiet that tells her the place has enough men out from that the usual denizens of the forest stay away.

The nearby willow tree is empty with a canopy of vines, the gaps between trees easily jumpable.

Libby doesn't care what this group has or hasn't done. She doesn't care what sort of bargin they expected to trade with her for their lives. When Libby was assigned by Boethiah to kill them, their fate has been sealed. Their lives are set by Libby's blade.

She reaches the limb of the tree beside the Mine and drops into a crawl before she reaches the ledge and peers through the leaves.

In the narrow alley directly below, three armored men patrol, one on a tower set with a trap of boulders. On the forest floor beyond lies the front doors to the Mine, light spilling from the cracks and a fire pit holding at least four men. No one is even watching much from above. Fools.

The Mine is set into the side of the mountain, leading underground three stories below, and through her gap of the leaves, she can see all the way around the perimeter. There are guard towers that wrap around much of the camp, and winding paths slither their way up to the entrance – a possible escape route, if the front gate isn't an option. Five of the men are heavily armed, and six archers are positioned around the wooden towers, arrows all pointed at the first floor below.

The ice in Libby's gut spreads through her veins.

She can scale one of the towers, then after shooting out the rest of the archers, come down and slash at those patrolling below. But that would take time, and no one is looking at the open floor of the tower before her.

She tips her had back and gives the moon a wicked smile. She is called Skyrim's Assassin for a reason. Dramatic entrances are practically her art form.

Libby eases back from the edge and strode away a few paces, judging how far and fast she'll need to run. The open balcony of the tower is wide enough that she can land and spin slashing the man within seconds, the night sky is devoid of stars, and her cloak shall shadow her as nothing more than a black mass against the nightly sky.

She had made a jump like this once before, one the night when her world had been shattered completely. But on that night, her father had already been dead for days, and he's leapt through the window of Mercer Frey's house for pure revenge.

This time, she won't fail. A rumble of deep thunder rattles her core.

The men aren't even looking at the trees when she hurtles through. And by the time she lands on the top of the tower and rolls into a crouch, two of her daggers are already flying.

Daggers and arrows impaled in bodies litter the ground of the mine in an instant. Once Libby had slashed the throat of the man on one tower, her arrows soar from her bow relentlessly. The trees and grass pass beneath them in blurs, closing each distance and landing where she aims.

By the time she makes it to the wooden gates of the mine, the elven archer had an arrow in her neck, her body already half-burned on the fire and filling the air with the smell of charred skin and flesh.

The doors swinging in the storm winds are the only sign of her entry. No one has noticed the bodies littering the courtyard, and the doors opening isn't much of a surprise with the thunder and the gusting wind off the nearby sea. No one hears her as she slithers up the walls and crawls across the dirt roof.

Boethiah's Champion presses her back against the dirt, willing herself to be as strong as the timber braces holding up the tunnel. Concealed beneath her black mask and hood, she wills herself to melt into the shadows, to become nothing more than a slip of darkness.

A bandit on guard duty trudges past to the open doors, grumbling as he latches it shut. Seconds later, Libby drops down with her two long knives and one swipe of them crossing in an X is all it takes to chop off the man's head.

Lightning flashes, illuminating the hallway. The assassin takes a long breath, stalking her way down until she finds another bandit against the wall. The smell of oil reaches her nose first. She can see the thickly liquid pooled along the floor, the bandit idiotically standing as if nothing will happen. Libby aims an arrow and carefully waits when his head turns to the side to strike the arrowhead against the stone and shoot if at the pool. The entire floor lights up and the man's screams are easily devoured by the flames.

Libby listens for the approach of anymore bandits, but the mine remains hushed as the storm rages around them.

Traversing down wooden ramps, her feet silently padding against the surface, she comes to another female making conjuring up potions at an Alchemy Table. She only emanates a choke of blood when Libby's arrow sticks into her neck.

Through an iron door, the mine opens up to an atrium where she can hear the ticking of pickaxes. Suddenly she flashes back to Cidhna Mine, the sound being ever so similar to how the slaves she befriended had chipped into the stone. For a moment, she considers brutally slaying these bandits openly at the thought of them hoarding slaves.

But as she shoots an arrow at one male Orc bandit, she slips across a small bridge and finds just another member hewing at the rock.

Silent and smooth as a wraith, Libby moves down the natural dirt ramp. The previous Champion seems to be hold up in a little cabin poorly erected on the other side of the mine. She waits until the next rumble of thunder before chucking a dagger at the man's head, smiling as it embeds into his skull.

Another flash of lightning illuminates her figure as she approaches the last remaining member. He catches the silhouette of her across the stone, but when he turns around, all he sees is a flash of her red and silver dagger.

Prowling her way around the cabin, she shimmies her way up to the roof and finds a skylight behind him. No wonder the Prince wants him dead. He can't even bother to check on the men who serve him?

Libby creeps to the edge of the bed posted behind the man's chair and table. With each step, she readies her Nightingale slides out of its sheath with barely a whine. She takes a steady breath, bracing herself for what will come next.

A smile spreads on her lips.

She whirls her sword and it plunges into the side of the Champion's side. He barely has time to cry out before Libby's foot rams into his head and she gabs him by the arm and flings him over her, yanking out her sword. He skips across the floor and has barely stopped before Libby has him pinned beneath her, her dagger raised above her head.

She smiles gravely at the Champion. "You deed is done." she speaks. Then her dagger plunges down into the Champion's chest. He chokes on his blood and coughs a few splatters onto Libby's cheeks and lips.

Yanking her dagger out, Libby makes quick of removing the Ebony Mail before the blood can stain. The first predicament she sees is that the armor is created to fit for male. Not allowing the discouragement to stipple her, Libby sides the still warm armor over her head and tries not to laugh at how broad the shoulders are.

Not mere seconds later does the armor itself start to reshape and fit to her form, fittings snug against her curves, the metal not even making the slightest crack or dink or dent. Once it has fitted comfortably, Libby feels vibrations through the entire complex.

She winces as she holds her head, the Ebony Mail hisses with shadows. Then she hears Boethiah's voice.

"You have done well, my Champion." Boethiah's voice purrs. Libby looks all around but doesn't find the Prince anywhere. Instead the world tilts and turns, fading in and out of focus and she closes her eyes to avoid vomiting on the armor.

"You've earned my respect, a feat few manage and live to tell about." Despite the world going out of focus, Libby can feel a clawed hand trace her jawline. "I shall write your name on the Tablet of Absolute Darkness."

Libby calms her breathing and steadies her feet.

"You may keep my Ebony Mail, a token of my appreciation to my _New_ Champion. Its gifts will resonate with your talents." The world settles and the Ebony Mail hums with every word Boethiah speaks. "Now go. I have string to pull that require my full attention. You may peruse your own course wherever it leads you."

As Liddy sheathes her father's sword. The Prince whispers in her ear.

"Remember always this: _As you will it, so it shall be_."

Libby's head settles and she takes a deep breath as she braces one hand on the back of a chair. When the pain in her head fades, she finds herself with the ebony cuirass fitted to her form, with her Nightingale vambraces armed with new daggers she didn't have before, and her greaves and boots, and her cloak sweeping behind her in a flowing wave of black.

Without wasting time, she pulls her hood up over her head and leaves the mine, spending the next hour gathering her arrows and daggers. Then she makes her way back towards Rorikstead.

After a day's rest, she and her stallion take the main road towards Whiterun, the great palace of Dragonsreach the first thing she sees as she descends the hill and onto the stone bridge. She keeps her hood down as she approaches the stables and drops off her horse, who raises the eyebrows of the stableboy.

After than she makes her way around the wall, looking like she's observing the farmlands until she finds an unguarded part of wall in the blind spot of the nearest guard tower. Looking at the expanse of the wall, Libby snorts. Compared to scaling the wall of the Blue Palace all the way up to her tower balcony, this wall is child's play.

She pulls up her hood and begins her trek, her feet finding hidden cracks and crevices, as if the path is laid out for her, hidden from sight. Making it to the top, Libby stays squat in her spot for a moment to observe the expanse of the glorious city.

Then she spots Jorrvaskr off by the Jarl's palace. Of course they'd be within a stone's throw from his home. Should trouble come, they'll be the first he calls.

Libby devilishly grins to herself as she wraps her cloak around herself and descends into the marketplace, looking more like Death itself.


	8. Chapter 7

Diamond grits her teeth as the sound of metal against metal rings in her ears. Vilkas' face is inches from hers and she snarls as she pushes him off, but he comes swopping in and swiping his weapon low near Diamond's feet.

Pushing off of her feet, she misses the initial swipe of at her ankles, and raises her glass warhammer, ready to give the deathblow. She sees the gleam of steel as her and Vilkas' weapons clang together in another high-pitched ring of distress. Before he has the chance to push her off, Diamond keeps in roll with her momentum and vaults herself over his blade landing behind him and spinning her weapon around to smack the handle at his side.

Satisfaction floods her throbbing arms as she hears him grunt, and Diamond dives and rolls out of the way, coming up on her feet back around Vilkas with her weapon ready.

"Focus," Kodlak calls to the warriors. "Don't just swing your blade so carelessly. You won't always get a second chance to strike." He walks around the two Companions, with his hands folded behind his back. Observing.

The rest of the members are gathered in or around the practice ring in the backyard of Jorrvaskr, watching or engaging in simple chat with one another until a clash of steel catches their attention. The nerves that had possessed Diamond the moment she found out that others would be watching had vanished the moment Vilkas stepped into the ring. She's practiced this before where she would try to calm herself in the presence of others. Fighting in real battle is easy since your life is one the line, but when it's just practice, she seems to get nervous for some odd reason.

Diamond spins her warhammer between her hands, the glass spikes on the head glittering in the sunlight. Vilkas stalks his way around her, both of them rotating in a circle.

"Your weapons seems suitable for you, though I fear I might snap it in half." He taunts.

She gives a catlike smile. "Don't underestimate it because it's beautiful."

Vilkas charges and Diamond blocks his two oncoming attacks, but as she readies to press her warhammer down on the handle of Vilkas', there's a burst of pain in her side and Diamond is sent skipping across the pavement losing her grip on her weapon in the process.

When she finishes rolling, Diamond pushes herself onto her hands, she finds the point of Vilkas' sword aimed mere inches at her nose. Vilkas stands over her, a smirk on his face that makes Diamond want to punch him.

"I win." Vilkas says.

Diamond snarls, though resists the urge to clobber him with Kodlak watching. "Well done, Vilkas. As to you Diamond."

She sighs and pushes herself to her feet as Torvar comes over and hands her the warhammer. "But I lost." She sighs.

"Practice Sparring isn't always about winning, little cub." Kodlak says as he claps his hand on Diamond's shoulder. "It's also about learning from your mistakes. Don't let it fret you." he chuckles and winks at Diamond.

Diamond nods and feels the corner of her lip twitch upwards. "Yes, Kodlak."

He then turns to announce to the rest of the Companions. The moment his head turns, everyone sits up straighter, and all of their conversations ceased. "Alright, up next we'll have Athis verses Aela."

Diamond walks off with Vilkas, trying not to limp much as her ankle throbs from where Vilkas whacked her. No doubt it'll bruise later. Slinging the warhammer over her back, she accepts Torvar's tankard of water with a nod and smile. Ever since she was picked up by the Companions, Diamond had refused to drink any more wine . . . ever. She takes her seat next to Torvar as Aela and Athis take their spots in the sparring ring.

"Not bad, you're getting better." Torver salutes with a raise of his tankard.

"Thank you." Diamond cheers. "But I won't be happy until I beat Vilkas."

"Then you'll be spending the rest of your life as a bitter old woman." says Vilkas from his seat at the table. Diamond looks to him, sitting next to his twin brother Farkus. Diamond sticks out her tongue and swishes the water around in her goblet.

She watches carefully as Aela and Athis go mercilessly at one another, Skjor hooting at Aela to watch her feet and find his weak spot; Athis snarling at him as he spins his small daggers and knives.

"Sometimes I feel like they go a little too rough on these training missions." Torvar says.

"Only because you get your ass beaten every time?" Diamond teases, Torvar jabbing her with his elbow in answer.

"Please, you could barely swing your own warhammer when you first started."

"Only because I was dealing with some shit. You, however, seem to rather indulge yourself at the bottom of a bottle."

"I can still smell the honey on the wind." Torvar sighs with a grin, not denying her words.

As Diamond takes a finishing sip of her mug, there's a sudden bloodcurdling scream that causes her to spew the water out in a misty spray. Everyone in the Companions pause, freezing like deer. Aela casts her glance over towards the origin, Farkus and Vilkas slowly rising from their seats.

The scream comes again, forming a word barely audible beneath its fear. "Help!"

Kodlak immediately springs into action. "Members of The Circle with me, the rest of you, secure the citizens!"

Diamond can her heart thump with nervousness and excitement as she grabs her metal gauntlets and slings them onto her forearms. She keeps in the middle of the group, the twins on her sides, Aela behind her, and Kodlak and Skjor taking the lead of the pack. They run and work together, like the family they are.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Torvar, Athis, Ria, and Njada flank to the left down towards the stone steps that leads towards the marketplace. Diamond can't help but grin at the thoughts of jealousy Njada must be curing through her mind at not being able to join The Circle. Still, Diamond focuses her mind and squares her shoulders as she keeps pace with the twins down towards the Second District.

They hurry down the steps and up ahead Diamond can see three guards sprint off to the right, swords drawn and shields ready. The screams of the citizens now have words to them. "Someone, help!" "Assailant!"

Diamond's hear thunders as she sees a couple of the guards escort the citizens with the rest of the Companions. As they reach the last step, past the pointed helmets of the guards and the forming throng of yellow uniforms, she sees a black arm swipe high and a wink of steel in the afternoon light. Then a stream of blood arch in the air, droplets splattering onto the stone.

The guards immediately form a straight line for the Companions to step through, and once Diamond reaches the front, her feet turn into lead. She halts her steps.

All she sees is the black cloak, forged out of midnight and the folds concealing the figure making her a smooth sliver of darkness. It's a girl she can tell, as the cape, while stretching and pooling at the woman's feet, it still clings to her well-shaped curves. The hood conceals her face, her mask darkening her features into nothing besides the jade green color of her eyes that pierce any person's soul.

There are six guards already dead at her feet, their blood mixing together in large puddles, their weapons broken or stabbed into their bodies.

Diamond's feet root into the ground, and her heart nearly stops.

She watches the woman, the assassin as she pulls out an ebony blade – one of many in her mobile arsenal – and brings them up with her sword to block a guard's attack. She immediately kicks him in the stomach and shoves him off. The moment it takes for him to double over is the moment she seizes to stab one of her daggers into his head, right between the eyebrows and use her sword the slice his head off in one clean swipe. The other she slices clean through; literally her blade cuts through the man like butter, splitting him in half, his skin melding into his armor, as if sizzled by fire. Even as his divide body collapses to the ground, she still stabs his head brutally until a large pool of blood leaks within seconds.

The woman looks up, her head immediately snapping to look at Diamond. Suddenly Diamond has the urge to scream, vomit and run, in that order.

_The Faceless_. Her knees buckle as the other Companions draw their weapons and fan out around the woman.

The Assassin wipes the blood from her hood and mask like sweat. Within the blink of an eye, the woman goes from a complete standstill, to bolting into a speeding sprint. There's a shout from Skjor and while the rest of the members scatter, Diamond is immobilized by her fear. And as Vilkas lunges off to the right, the woman is directly there, her arms splayed wide, flying towards Diamond.

She feels a scream at the back of her throat, but it's quickly swallowed as Diamond is tackled by the assassin. She feels the woman's arms wrap around her middle, then the harsh slam of the ground beneath her back. Her spine screams and her head throbs like a beating drum. They roll a couple times until the assassin has her pinned to the ground. During that time, Diamond's glass warhammer had been detached and is now skittered off to the side.

Diamond opens her eyes and peers up at the assassin, the sunlight blocked by her head, silhouetting her form. Her body shivers and Diamond can feel her throat closing in fear. The assassin raises her arm, bringing forward the bloodied dagger, the blade gleaming crimson. She skillfully spins them between her fingers, the manner being somewhat recognizable as she readies the blade outward and ready to strike.

Then she pauses.

Even behind her mask, Diamond can see the assassin give a soft sound of surprise and sees her hear tilts to the side ever so inconceivably. For some reason, in the stall, Diamond's eyes flick towards the woman's torso, at the metal cuirass that can only be described as the darkest of dark. Shadows stream off of it, light and thin enough to be like smoke; twirling and dancing in the faintest whispers of wind. But then, something honestly extraordinary happens. The armor, pitch black with shadows, slowly starts to recede like a sponge absorbing water. It ebbs off, leeching away towards the woman's back. Then the full detail of the armor is revealed.

While the plates over the chest and stomach are dark metal, the pauldrons are a deep navy blue that layer off until her forearm, where vambraces of leather, holding endless pointed daggers devour the rest of her arm. The assassin lowers her blade and her head jerks up as a voice sounds. "Diamond!"

Immediately the assassin's armor bleeds black as the smoke and shadows pool back out from behind her back and cover her entire front. She gives Diamond one quick glance before she hops to her feet and pushes off her feet into a backflip away from the Companion. The movement is smooth and graceful that Diamond can feel a bud of jealousy stand out from her fear. She realizes how badly she's shaking as Farkas helps her to her feet, Vilkas and Aela standing up front to protect her.

The Companion mentally curses herself at how pathetic she must've looked, but graciously accepts her weapons as Farkas hands it to her. She gives the weapon a couple swings and spins to steady her hands and remind herself she still can fight.

It had never occurred to Diamond until now just how much fear she still holds towards the Faceless, until she was already rendered helpless. But this assassin, she hesitated, which means she must've recognized Diamond . . . possibly.

As she takes her place next to her Companions, reminding herself that she's not alone in this, her eyes finally see the familiar design of the vambraces. The cloak isn't even the slightest shade of purple, and hood that connects to it has the same ornate designs as a . . . a . . .

"By the gods." Diamond hears Farkus breath with disbelief. "A Nightingale."

Diamond feels the word echo and clang around the inside of her skull like a titanium bee.

"That's impossible," says Aela. "They're supposed to be legend."

"Well legends don't slaughter fifteen men." Skjor growls.

The rattling in Diamond's skull settles as her brain racks through all of her memoires until it settles on the only other two people in all of Skyrim who could possibly own such a rare uniform.

_Karliah, please_. She begs to the Divines. She once remembers Libby telling her how Karliah was her trainer before she had the slightest confidence in stopping Mercer Frey, the murderer of her father. But the only thing that differs her from letting relief flood Diamond, is the brutality of the kills. Karliah is soft-spoken, and she doesn't like the way of messy kills, and with her wide extent and explanation of how secretive she is about the Nightingale reputation . . .

That kill with the guard sliced in two, that was for show; a show for power and skill.

"No." Diamond breathes.

As if the assassin had heard her word, her head turns in Diamond's direction. She then sheathes her weapons and readies herself with her bare hands.

"Arrogant bitch." Skjor spits.

He, Aela and the twins then charge the person, Diamond staying slightly behind to observe and _desperately_ hoping she proves herself wrong.

Vilkas is the first to reach her, and the cloaked assassin dodges the sweeping bow of his warhammer aimed for her face. Vilkas' arm shots past her, and she grabs it by the wrist and bicep, locking and twisting his arm so he grunts with pain. She whirls him around, careening into Farkas hard enough that the two men go careening to the ground.

"Diamond! A little help!" Skjor barks.

Aela charges next wielding her shield and dagger. The assassin's layered clothing is too cumbersome for her to dart away fast enough, so as Aela swipes for her face, she bends back. Her spine bends so easily it's disturbing, but the blade passes overhead, slicing through an errant strand of her hair as it poofs out of the hood. The assassin drops to the ground and lashes out with a leg, sweeping Aela off her feet. Before she even hits the ground, the assassin rams her knee up directly into the middle of Aela's spine. There's a faint crack and she grabs Aela by the shoulders and hauls her into the air, adding a kick for extra distance.

_Don't do it, don't do it_ . . . Diamond grits her teeth and grips her warhammer hard enough to shatter it.

Skjor made to come up behind her, his steel blade flashing in his hand as he makes it to plunge it through the assassin's head. She rolls, and the sword strikes stone, sparking.

By the time the assassin finishes her roll, Skjor raises his sword again. She catches his feint to the left before he strikes at her right. She dances aside. Skjor is still swinging when she drives the base of her palm straight into his nose and slams her other fist into his gut. As he drops his sword, Diamond sees it again.

The shadows that seep from her armor, they travel from the cuirass and leech themselves onto Skjor's hand even as it comes launching towards the assassin's head. They grip his hand and start spreading itself across his arm in seconds. Skjor grunts and yells in pain, gripping his wrist as he drops to the floor, blood gushing from his nose. His hand never even connected with her.

Diamond thought she was hallucinating, but it happened to both Vilkas and Aela when they had attacked her. Diamond looks to her left where she finds Vilkas struggling to his feet, his arms shake as he pushes himself up. His hands are covered in white-headed welts, and his skin is so red that it's already starting to peel. Diamond had seen these side effects before.

It's the work of . . . poison.

She jerks her head towards Kodlak, who has followed her gaze. His eyes flick to hers, and he nods. Once all of the Companions rise to their feet, Diamond's eyes jump all around to see who will attack first.

Farkas charges first.

"No!" Diamond screams. That was a fatal mistake.

Her shout catches his attention, and the assassin strikes like a viper. Still only with her bare hands, her fists plow into Farkas' face. Her hands strike like snakes, so fast and speedy that Farkas can't even have time to block one blow and prepare for the next. His face receives hits from her hands, elbows, and her knee as she grabs his head and jams it downwards a couple times.

"Farkas!" Vilkas shouts.

As the assassin goes to slam her foot into his side, Farkas manages to clumsily sidestep out of the way. The shadows slick off of her and bleed onto his hand.

She lifts a dainty finger and taps at her chest. Her nails make a light _tink-tink_ against the armor.

"The Ebony Mail. Courtesy of the Daedric Prince, Boethiah." Her voice is low and soft.

The word _Daedric_ turns everyone's blood cold, and even Skjor's skin turns pale.

And then she does it.

The assassin sprints for Farkas, but at the last minute, her hands reach out to grab his waist. She then slides around until she's behind him, and lifts him. She _lifts_ Farkas up, and hurls him back, her spine bending once again into that uncomfortable and frankly backbreaking curve. She follows their momentum, careening herself over him and when her back plants on the ground, she releases Farkas and her feet push him off until he's high into the air. She finishes the roll slightly spinning on her hands so she lands face-forward.

With a powerful push of her legs, she leaps up and matches his height easily, flipping forward and slamming her heel into his back. Her dark cloak fans out like wings. Farkas hurdles towards the ground, landing face-first into the stone and bouncing off before sliding to a stop at the base of the stairs. Diamond can see his nose is bleeding heavily and the tip is angled awkwardly. Now doubt it is broken.

That's it. That's _it_!

Diamond can feel her knees buckle.

Libby.

It's _Libby_.

There's no denying it. Diamond would recognize that move anywhere. It's a move that Libby had tried a multitude of times to teach Diamond, but neither of them succeeded. It was a move that came to her as easy as breathing.

How?! How can that be! Like a heavy wave of thick tar, all of the rumors, all of the memories, all of the facts that surround Libby come rushing towards Diamond enough to make her head light.

Libby was Master of the Thieves Guild, and Second-in-Command for the Faceless. Both lives abundant to one another. Not much is known past her title of Guildmaster, but there's flutter everywhere about a Faceless Member who has been deemed, Skyrim's Assassin, or Assassin of the Rift. Libby was the only member that qualifies, but then word spoke about how Skyrim's Assassin had gotten captured and sent to life in Cidhna Mine.

How did she get out?! No one is able to escape Cidhna Mine! Unless her Guild connections are that powerful! But how did she end up there in the first place, and Cidhna Mine . . . Gods. No wonder her fighting style isn't recognizable. It's so different. The Guild might be one to make framings and steals extravagant, but they'd never go as far as this.

Rumors had spread about how a multitude of her victims being brutally and artfully murdered. One sticking to Diamond about how a man had been found, hanging from a noose in front of the Temple of Dibella in Markarth. His entire skin was peeled off and strewn along the steps like a throw rug. His eyes were yanked out, the optic nerves dangling from the sockets, his stomach ripped open and intestines spilling out and his head was shaved to reveal the logo of the Faceless sliced into the back.

Diamond shudders, and suddenly her stomach lurches. By the gods, how she's changed.

It's then, Libby jerks her head towards the Companion, and even underneath the mask, Diamond can see her lips stretch into a wicked grin. Fear hacks at Diamond's nerves and for the slightest second that she forgets how to breathe.

Libby charges forward and pulls out her daggers this time. Diamond gives a slight gasp as Libby flicks her arms out and five daggers all together spin rapidly out towards her, nothing more than blurs of steel. Immediately something in Diamond's head clicks and she brings her warhammer up, whirling it rapidly to deflect the daggers.

The moment she knocks away the last one, she looks up and finds Libby high in the air, a long hunting knife in her raised hand, ready to strike. At the last second, Diamond brings her warhammer up and she hears the blade strike at the glass head. She hops back and as Libby goes to slash her, Diamond flips back then jabs the end of her weapon into the ground, spinning on it as Libby hurdles past her, her steel whining.

As Diamond finishes her spin, Libby is already there with more daggers between her fingers, and a long ebony sword. Diamond continually spins her hammer with dizzying speed as Libby hurdles dagger after dagger before drawing another sword.

"_It's almost like old times_."

While keeping her attention on how her hands spin the hammer, and how to position her feet, Diamond lets her attention drift slightly to the voice she thinks she hears. But it's easily drowned out by the ringing harsh scraping of metal.

Their weapons clash again and again as the rest of the Companions gather themselves, Vilkas helping Farkas, Aela helping Skjor. The two girls dance their way around the marketplace, Diamond making sure she hops over the dead bodies while still keeping Libby's blades from her face. And Libby is showing no mercy. It's as if whatever friendship they had before, it is truly gone now. Beforehand, on the Emperor's ship, Libby didn't nearly put as much force into their fighting, because she was afraid of hurting Diamond, even though she had already destroyed everything Diamond already was. But even then something was different compared to the way she fights now.

It's like she' truly trying to hurt Diamond. And Diamond knows . . . just _knows_ . . . that Libby still isn't even putting forth her full effort in this fight. If she was, as much as Diamond hates to admit it, she would've been dead by now. They all would have. She is drawing out the inevitable, a predator playing with her meal before eating it. She wants to enjoy every moment.

Diamond shoots forward with a sweep of her warhammer. Steel slams into steel.

Her hands slip and her arms lower.

Right away she feels the hilt of Libby's sword punch hard into her chest. Diamond gasps for air as she stumbles back, her hands slipping from her weapon.

_No_.

As she tries to regain footing, she lifts her head and sees Libby dig the tips of her blades into the ground and swing herself around, her leg flying. It connects with Diamond's jaw, sending a searing crackling pain across her face and spotting her vision. She is not given a moments rest as Libby's fist connects with the same cheek. Blood drips from the corner of her mouth and streams along her jaw. As Diamond tries to spit it out, she feels the other side of her face assaulted and she ends up biting her tongue. She tries to keep the tears from escaping her eyes, but she can't stop them as Libby continually punches her. Left and right. Left and right. Left and then knee.

Diamond grunts in pain, more tears and more blood spill from her nose and mouth and tongue. The coppery taste permeates her tongue enough to make her vomit. Perhaps even that will help her now.

She stumbles back, her eyes barely squinting open as colors mix in with the black and the world seems to be increasing speed. Out of her ringing ears she hears Skjor shout her name in distress. And then Libby does that same move, and the ground greets her with a heavy hit to her skull. Then she feels the pressure of feet on her back and then there's the brief peace of flying.

Her eyes flutter open and she sees the black wings of Libby's cloak before pain sears into her arms and the heat of scratches near her left eye burns. Blood rises up from the wounds by the gales of the earth that grows closer with alarming speed.

Finally there's the stab of pain in her gut caused by the roundness of Libby's heel, and Diamond's speed increases. She hears the crack before the pain, and Diamond gives a silent scream – her mouth opening, but nothing comes out – as she feels the stones crack and crumple and stab into her back, creating an abnormally wide crater.

Everything hurts, some things might be broken, Diamond's doesn't know for sure. But the pain is everywhere; in every fiber of her body, every tissue, every scar, muscle and vain.

This isn't Libby. This _can't_ be Libby.

Diamond lies motionless as she hears the sound of chaos around her. The grunts of bedlam, the metallic clang of swords and hammers, screams of pain. Footsteps try to reach her, but the moment they get within range, there's a sound of a punch or kick and they're sent back.

She needs to get up. She needs to fight. For The Companions. For Kodlak.

Kodlak!

As if on cue, she hears a familiar grunt of pain followed by the scraping of blades.

No! No, she can't lose another loved one to her! She won't! But the moment she tries to move, shadows envelop her, and she hears Libby chuckle before lightly pressing her toe into a wound on Diamond's leg, and Diamond screams in anguish. Her body sags into the rock, into hr rigid cocoon.

Finally after she doesn't know how long, Diamond hears the commotion stop. Then light, barely audible footsteps approach her. Diamond twitches her arms, and then stifles a scream as agonizing pain sears through her joints.

The sun gets blocked out and Diamond opens her eyes to find Libby standing over her, her cloak now encasing her entire body. Diamond can't even snarl as her head throbs enough to knock her unconscious.

"You're no match for me." she hears Libby speak. Her voice is like gravel. "You never were."

Anger builds within Diamond, but the pain shackles her to the ground. She can barely lift her fingers.

Libby gives her another long look, her head angling to the side. Then she steps to the side, letting the sun blaze on Diamond's eyes, forcing her to close them. But she follows Libby's footsteps, letting her head rest on the side. She opens her eyes again and finds Libby walking away from her, but she sees Aela's unconscious body lying next to a dead guard.

Her cape flows behind her, brushing over the bodies. Then she stops, turns her head and looks to Diamond.

After a moment, she looks away, builds up into a sprint and when she leaps up into the air, she grabs the folds of her cloak and yanks them inwards. The smoke puffs of her body and she disappears in a cloud of black.

Diamond lies there, with the rest of her comrades. She slowly blinks, and once the feeling of safety sweeps over her like a blanket, she lets darkness envelop her.


	9. Chapter 8

"Ow, ow. _Ow_!" Diamond shouts as Ria taps her forehead wound with a wet cloth.

"Sorry. Don't worry it shouldn't take much longer." She promises.

"With these injuries, I doubt it." Skjor grumbles from across the way.

"Way to keep the spirits up." says Vilkas.

"As well as complement our opponent." Farkas adds.

Diamond shakes her head, sending it throbbing as she glances all around the grand hall of the Jarl's palace. After their terrible and _humiliating_ beat down by Libby the Nightingale, the remaining guards had taken the Companions and treated them for their injuries. Oddly enough, or perhaps maybe not, Diamond was the one who had the most injuries. But even so, she wouldn't even let the healers look at her until Kodlak was healed.

Each of them now sit at the dining tables that flank the grand fire pit of Jarl Balgruuf's palace. Diamond sits far across from Vilkas, Aela at his side, Farkas on her right, and Skjor standing near the fire pit brooding. The Jarl hasn't been down yet, and not even Kodlak has heard from him since the guards had told them he wanted them in his palace immediately.

Meanwhile, Danica has taken the time to heal them. As Diamond had suspected, Farkas' nose is broken, and deep blue bruises are already starting to bloom across his jawline. Vilkas' armor has been cast aside and the white of the bandages encasing his chest peek through the holes in his tunic.

Despite the pain in her shoulder, Diamond's arm was "_merely_" dislocated. Still she is offered advice to refrain from overusing it. There's no damage to her spine, and her head suffered a wound with a possible concussion. Skjor's hand and arms are healed enough from the white-headed welts of the poison, and Aela seems to be fine despite the small limp she has in her right ankle. Ria, Athis, Trovar and Njada come rushing after Libby had vanished, helping the injured Companions. Ria offered to treat a couple of the members to help Danica.

"You are all very lucky," Danica says, the high priestess of the Temple of Kynareth.

"I think we may define that differently, Danica." Skjor grumbles.

"Very few have faced off against Skyrim's Assassin and lived." She emphasizes.

"It's only because she isn't done with us." Aela hisses. "She wants to taunt us, make a mockery of us. Like a predator with its prey."

"No matter," Kodlak chimes. "I am very proud of all of you. You had managed to hold off against her, and return with your lives."

Diamond clenches her hands into fists, her glass Warhammer leaned against the table. Despite the smell of the wondrous food, none of them ate it. She has white bandages wrapped around her left shoulder, and mummifying her hands. Her right temple throbs with the beating of her heart, and her nose it stuffed with tissue to keep from bleeding. Bruises dominate her jawline and face, spreading out across like fast blooming roses. Same goes for the other Companions involved in Libby's battle as well.

"Maybe now, but I have a feeling she'll come back." Vilkas says.

As the rest of the Companions converse, and Farkas gets up to join his brother, Diamond tries to steady herself as Kodlak approaches her. He gets down on one knee and looks to Diamond. Except she doesn't look to him.

"Are you all right, little cub?"

"Depends on what you mean by all right." Diamond replies, forcing herself to look into the frosted blue of his eyes. "I haven't spoken to her in three years."

"I know this."

"She was so different . . ." Diamond chokes. "That wasn't her . . . that _couldn't_ be her . . ." Her hands are shaking and Diamond tucks them under her arms.

Kodlak places a hand on her knee. "Calm yourself, Diamond. We can talk later."

With a pat on her knee, Kodlak leaves Diamond to saunter over to Aela with her bandaged hand and bruised back. Diamond casts her gaze around the room and finds the guards still poised next to the throne and servants coming and going to the table and leaving out through the kitchen. What troubles her most is that she still hasn't seen Irileth either, who is the king's housecarl as well as closest friend since they had met in battle.

For some reason, not seeing her around is even more unnerving than just not seeing the Jarl himself.

Sinking back into her chair, Diamond brings her knees up and hugs them close to her chest. She rests her chin as she thinks back to the battle. That . . . that couldn't have been Libby. She was too aggressive, too merciless, too . . . deadly.

It's, disturbing; it's scary.

Despite her efforts trying to forget everything about Libby since that deadly night she had been betrayed, it disturbs Diamond when the memory comes to her so easily.

Seeing Libby standing next to Zusa on the Emperor's ship. Watching Zusa pull away her hood to reveal her ivory skin and raven black hair. There was a look of sorrow in her eye, of fear, pain . . . but Diamond couldn't see any of it past her rage. Her rage that had propelled her to do what she thought was the unthinkable to her, and try to kill Libby. She didn't stand a chance, but it was the closest she had come to defeating her. Even if she ended up with a throbbing head. But even back then, Libby had held herself back from harming Diamond; she felt bad even when she had bruised Diamond during their sparring practices.

But this . . . this Libby . . .

Shaking hit her so hard some platter of food tumble off the table and away. She can't stop her teeth from clacking. It was a miracle she stayed in the chair. Warmth of a blanket wraps around her and she looks to find Ria with a gentle smile.

Footsteps sound from the upper floor and the guards stand straight as Irileth steps down the stairs with Jarl Balgruuf in tow. Everyone in the room becomes more rigid as the Jarl of Whiterun Hold saunters into the room, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighs as he sits in his throne. Already a bad sign.

Kodlak approaches the jarl carefully and bends to one knee. "Jarl Balgruuf."

"Rise, Kodlak." The Jarl says with a motion of his hand. "I was told what had happened. But I wish to know the story from your perspective than just the simple rabble of the people."

Diamond keeps her eyes on Kodlak, watching him as he is perfectly still. He sighs as he lowers his head. "There was an attack in the marketplace, my Jarl. When we were called, we were faced with Libitania Desidenuis." There's a collective intake of breath at the mention of Libby's name, Diamond herself cringing. And it's almost as if the guards are ready for her to crash through the circling the way they ready their weapons, or try to nonchalantly cast their gaze around the room.

"Libitania?" the Jarl repeats. "As in the Master of the Thieves Guild?"

"Not just Master of the Thieves Guild, my lord." Kodlak continues. "But she is also a Nightingale. A warrior of the shadows and lethally skilled."

"They are nothing more than a tale." The Jarl tries to dismiss, but his tone is hushed and astonished.

"Well legends don't cause bruises like these." Farkas barks. Vilkas quickly quieting his brother. Diamond watches the brothers before slowly turning her head to the Jarl.

"Still, and please forgive my disrespect Kodlak. But, I'm afraid that I had expected better of you and your Companions." He says.

There's a silence that quickly grows so thick that it's nearly suffocating. Diamond herself having trouble breathing as she stares at the Jarl, feeling insulted and surprised.

"Excuse me?" Skjor nearly growls.

"Again, my apologies, but this is _one_ woman we're talking about. The last anyone had heard of Libitania, she was locked away in Cidhna Mine. Even if she managed to escape, she can't be in the best of shape to be able to take out all of you, Companions."

There's the harsh slam on the table and Farkas is on his feet. "This woman took down nearly all of your guards single-handedly, so don't you dare say that we're the ones who lack in skill and reputation!" Aela shushes him instantly, and Diamond stares at Farkas with wide eyes and a mouth agape.

Vilkas slowly rises from his seat at the table. "My Jarl, please try to understand, this woman, she has the aspects of both an assassin and a thief. Trained by Zusa Phoenix herself and heir of Gallus Desidenuis. She is unpredictable, and as despicably as I have to say, she is incredibly skilled. It's no wonder why she was the best."

Jarl Balgruuf holds up his hand and ceases Vilkas' speaking. "Please, try to understand where I'm coming from, my Companions. You are the face of Whiterun Hold. Your title holds much honor and pride. But once word spreads on how easily defeated you were, it won't turn out greatly for you all."

_This is not happening_ . . . _This_ can't _be happening_ . . .

The Jarl, he – his voice it has, _doubt_. And then he says, "How can I trust you Companions to protect my entire hold when you can't even prove that you're capable of protecting yourselves?"

This time, it is Aela who springs up from her seat. "Your Majesty, this was a simple battle where we weren't prepared for. Now that we know how our prey works, we will take him down." She emphasizes her point by slamming her fisted and into her palm.

"Jarl Balgruuf, please." Vilkas says calmly, though his voice is tight with anger. "It was one battle, and we were pitted against Skyrim's Assassin. All of the continent knows of her skill and cruelty and brutality."

"Even if the citizens don't doubt you, they will pity you. And sometimes, that could be worse." The Jarl retorts. "Now please, don't mistake my disappointment for doubt. I to, have experienced and witnessed the cruelty and merciless nature of Skyrim's Assassin. Her merging of the Guild with the Faceless has definitely earned her a reputation as the most feared assassin in Tamriel. I had heard rumors that apart from being trained by Zusa Phoenix herself, she had brought in tutors from all over Tamriel. The Imperial fighting masters from the colovian highlands of Cyrodiil, magical honing of Thalmor sorcerer's in the Summerset Isle, Argonian poison experts from the Black Marsh . . . Once she had sent herself to Ikaven in Hammerfell to train with the Alik'r. No price seemed to be too high for her."

Diamond feels the goosebumps crawl across her skin. Damn, Libby sure did get her way around Tamriel. But when did all of this happen? While she was hiding from Diamond, that would explain why she was always so busy and never got much of a chance to spend with Diamond. But to travel all around Tamriel, and with the time span between them during their days . . .

This must be back when Libby was younger, but that would mean that she has known Zusa even longer . . . and for some reason, that disturbs Diamond more. Did Zusa plan the whole thing? Was their friendship even real from the moment they met each other in Whiterun, at the shop of a blacksmith? Diamond shakes her head and almost feels like screaming from the frustration.

But it did explain other things; such as how Libby is so fluently bilingual in nearly all of the languages of Tamriel; how she's so skilled in so many different aspects of fighting, magic and stealth; how she's so smart about culture and history that it was intimidating.

"My point being here, is that I had entrusted you to protect my city, and assassin or not, Libitania is not Dragonborn. She can still be defeated."

"Your Majesty," Kodlak says, his voice still calm and controlled as it always is. "Please, try to understand, we're not just dealing with an average assassin."

"How so?"

"She's the Champion of the Daedra." Diamond suddenly blurts. Not taking her eyes off of the giant fire pit. Even when everyone's eyes shift to her, Diamond only turns her head towards the Jarl. There's a stiffening silence in the grand hall, and she watches as the Jarl turns pale. Still, Diamond continues to say, "She is the Champion of _two_ Daedra." The Jarl's face, as well as the guards and maybe even Irileth's face becomes deathly pale.

"That's right." Farkas breathes. "I remember her saying how she had gotten a piece of armor from a Daedra."

"Boethiah." Diamond whimpers.

Several guards gasp and Irileth jerks her head towards the Jarl, who flicks his gaze to her as well.

"Boethiah?" Proventus, the Jarl's steward gasps.

"And Nocturnal." Diamond continues. She doesn't how she's speaking, but the words are there and she lets them free. "The Gulid is rumored to be in association with Nocturnal, the Lady of the Shadows and the Night. She's their patron of luck. I don't know how Li –" Diamond's throat clogs and she immediately chokes. In a way, she's glad. She doesn't want anyone to know her past with Libby. She coughs a few times and takes a few drinks of water for emphasis before continuing. "I don't know how Libitania had managed to become the Champion of Boethiah, but in result the Daedra Prince has given her a special gift. A piece of enchanted armor, like Farkas said."

"The Ebony Mail." Proventus finishes.

"You know of this cuirass?" asks Kodlak.

"I've done my research. This chain mail is a rarity and one of the most legendary powerful pieces of armor in all of Skyrim. It's said that the cuirass gives off a special poisonous smoke to the enemies of the wearer."

"Well I can adjourn to that." Skjor spits as he holds up his hand, still covered with puss-dried and scabbed welts from the poison of the Ebony Mail. It's still hard to believe that he didn't even touch Libby and that the smoke had reached out to _him_ in a way.

"This is bad." Athis speaks. "Imagine the power she's holding. To think, this battle could've just been mere child's play."

"It's not just bad, this is terrible!" Torvar says as he sits next to Diamond. She wasn't even aware he was in the room until he takes the seat next to her right, and the smell of his cheap cologne and mead waft into her nose. Somehow, it anchors her back to reality. "How can we deal with a _Master_ Assassin, who is also the _Master_ of the Thieves Guild, _and_ is the Champion of _two_ Daedric Princes?!"

"I've never even heard of Daedras having the same Champion. I had always assumed that they didn't like the share." Vilkas says.

"Well it would seem they do." Farkas grumbles. "Of course someone like Libitania Desidenuis would be the one who could become the Champion of two princes and still be alive."

Diamond barely suppresses the growl that vibrates her throat. She can see Torvar look to her out her peripheral vision.

"So what do we do now?" Ria asks. She now sits across from Diamond near Aela, wrapping the huntress's forearm.

"We do what we always do." Kodlak says as he turns back to the Companions. "Not matter how many Daedra shower her with power or gifts of enchantment, Libitania Desidenuis is still a criminal. And like every other criminal, The Companions will bring her down." He takes a couple steps towards them, and Diamond feels herself lighten as she watches the flames of the fire enhance his aged face and gleam along his silver hair. She sees the leader he has always been. Proud and full of honor. "We need to scour the city and see if she's hiding out either in or around the perimeter; and that includes the smaller towns. Starting tomorrow, Farkas, Torvar and Diamond, I want you both to scour the districts of the city. Aela, Skjor and Vilkas, you will travel towards Riverwood and check with the locals to see if anyone newly as arrived into town. The rest of you will check with the citizens here and we shall hunt through the woods. We will check everywhere." Kodlak finishes as he turns to the Jarl.

Jarl Balgruuf nods in approval. "I'll keep my guards on high alter and put them on extra patrols."

Kodlak turns back towards his Companions. "Remember, by warriors, this is an assassin we're dealing with. They have the capability to hide in plain sight. So keep an eye out for anything and _everything_."

The Companions nod and after a bow towards the Jarl, Kodlak leads the pack out of the Jarl's grand hall. Once they make it back to Jorvaskrr, things almost feel as if it has returned to normal: most of the Companions go towards the dining table, Vilkas disappears into the living quarters with Kodlak, Torvar and Athis go outside towards the back patio and Farkas speaks with Ria on heavy armor. It almost seems believable, if it weren't for the fear that still clings to Diamond, even as she robotically makes her way towards the living quarters with the intention to sleep.

Her body is so tried, but she just knows that if and when she does collapse into bed, her dream will be filled with darkness. Purple cloaked people with no features on their face, pinning her to the ground as she watches everything and everyone she loves get eaten alive by purple flames.

Diamond nearly stumbles down the steps and into her bed: the cot located off the left of the doorway and tucked away into the corner. She finds her usual set of things, setting her glass Warhammer leaning against her end table as she curls up onto the warm pelts of a Sabre Cat and deer.

She faces the wall and just tries not to let the thoughts of Libby and assassins and blood wriggle its way into her thoughts.

But alas, moments after she closes her eyes, she feels a hand on her shoulder, shaking her awake. Diamond yelps, her throat feeling dry as she harshly turns her body and goes to grab her Warhammer.

"Relax, Little Cub." Diamond freezes instantly. She looks up to find Kodlak, kneeling next to her bed. His wan face etched with delicate lines of worry.

"K-Kodlak?" Diamond whimpers. Quickly taking in her surroundings, Diamond realizes that the lighting of Jorvaskrr has changed. It must be late.

"You were screaming." Kodlak says.

That would explain why her throat feels sore. Diamond swallows and sits herself up, reaching a shaking hand out towards the glass of water she always keeps at her bedside. He takes delicate sips, and Kodlak watches her patiently.

"I'm sorry." She says hoarsely.

"No need to apologize, Diamond. But I'm concerned; I had thought you had outgrown these night terrors."

"So did I." she grumbles. "But, just seeing her again. Seeing her fight like that . . ." her throat tightens again, and she feels Kodlak place a warm callus hand on her knee.

"Do you wish to speak about it?"

Diamond shakes her head. Truly she doesn't, she only fears it'll give voice to the terror, and make them real. How many times she had dreamed of Libby killing Kodlak. A dagger to the heart, an arrow to his throat . . .

So, she is merely grateful for his presence here. Even more so when he invites her back to his quarters.

She crawled in between the sheets like a child, and let despite her arguments, Kodlak told her to go back to sleep. And before her eyes closed again, all Diamond remembers seeing Kodlak hunched over his desk, the golden light of the horn sconces.

Later that evening, Libby looks down at herself, her mouth caught between a smile and a frown. "I honestly don't know what I did to deserve this."

The neck-to-toe black outfit is all made from the same, dark fabric – as thick as leather, but without the sheen. It is like a suit of armor, only skintight and made from some strange cloth, not metal. She can feel the weight of her weapons where they are concealed – so neatly that even someone patting her down might think they were merely ribbing – and she swings her arms experimentally.

"Careful." The short man in front of her says, his eyes wide. "You might take off my head."

Behind them, Joric chuckles from where he leans against the paneled of the study room. Libby hadn't asked questions when the Crown Prince had showed up at her door with a short tinkerer man behind him. He merely gave her a smile, and Libby only let him in because citizens were starting to stare.

Though thankfully her home wasn't much of a giveaway. Her father was smart enough to invest in the home long before the Guild started experiencing problems. A lovely mansion in a respectable part of Whiterun. Its red-brick exterior was different than the brown and white of the village. Its three stories with a wraparound porch, and balconies. The only similarity it has with the town is the terracotta roof. Vines creep up the left side of the house, clinging to the chimney.

Once in the comfortable study of her home, Joric then he told her to put on the black suit and matching boots that were lined with fleece.

"When you want to unsheathe the blades," the inventor says, taking a large step back. "it's a downward sweep, and an extra flick of the wrist." He demonstrates the motion with his own scrawny arm, and Libby echoes it.

Libby grins as a narrow blade shoots out of a concealed flap in her forearm. Permanently attached to the suit, it is like having a short sword welded to her arm. She makes the same motion with the other wrist, and the twin blades appeared. Some internal mechanism has to be responsible for it – some brilliant contraption of springs and gears. She gives a few deadly swings in the air in front of her, reveling in the whoosh-whoosh-whoosh of the swords. They are finely made, too. She raises her brows in admiration. "How do they go back?"

"Ah, a little more difficult." The inventor says. "Wrist angled up, and press this little button here. It should trigger the mechanism – there you go." Libby watches the blade slide back into the suit, then released and returned the blade several times.

Despite the quality of the outfit, Libby is still suspicious as to why it is Joric had given her such an extravagant gift. At last, Libby looks at Joric. "How much is it?"

Joric pushes off the wall. "It's a gift. As are the boots." Libby knocks a toe against the tiled floor, feeling the jagged edges and grooves of the soles. Perfect for climbing the sheepskin interior will keep her feet at body temperature, the inventor said, even if she got them utterly soaked. Libby has never even heard of a suit like this. It will completely change the way she conducted her missions. Not that she needed the suit to give her an edge; but she gives the prince credit for incorporating it with the Ebony Mail. And she is Libitania Desidenuis, gods be damned, so doesn't she deserve the very best equipment? With this suit, no one will question her place as Skyrim's Assassin. Ever. And if they did . . . gods help them.

The inventor asks to take Libby's final measurements, though the ones Joric had supplied were almost perfect. Swallowing her disturbance, Libby lifts her arms out as the inventor does the measurements, asking Libby bland questions about if she's recently settled into Whiterun or if she was vacationing. He is a master tinkerer, he said – and specialized in crafting things that are believed to be impossible. Like a suit that is both armor and an armory, and lightweight enough to wear comfortably.

Libby looks over her shoulder at Joric, who has watched her interrogation with a bemused smile. "Are you getting one made for Nox?"

"No. Only the best for the best." Libby notices he didn't say "assassin" – but whatever the tinkerer thought about who Libby was, his face yielded no sign.

Libby couldn't hide her surprise. "Do you give gifts to all of your mercenaries?"

Joric shrugs, picking at his nails. "Only if they follow their orders as well as you. I can't have a skilled warrior like you completely vulnerable, can I?"

Libby hides her shock better this time, but she has to restrain from grabbing the tinkerer's wrist. A suit like this has to cost a small fortune. Materials aside, just the hours it must have taken the tinkerer to create it . . . Joric had to have commissioned them immediately after they had arrived in Ivalice. But if this sleezeball plans on making her pay for it through labor . . .

The clock chimes eight o'clock, and Joric lets out a long breath. "I have a meeting with the Jarl." He waves a ringed hand to the tinkerer. "Give the bill to my manservant when you're done." The master tinkerer nods, still measuring Libby.

Joric approaches Libby, each step as graceful as a movement of a dance. He plants a kiss on top of Libby's head. "I'm glad to have you one my side." He murmurs into Libby's hair. Forcing down the urgency to choke him or slap him, Libby watches as Joric strolls from the room, whistling to himself.

The tinkerer kneels down to measure the length between Libby's knee and boot tip, for whatever purpose that has. Libby clears her throat, waiting until she is sure Joric is out of earshot. "Um, if I were to give you a piece of Angel's Hair, could you incorporate it into the uniform? It' small, so I'd just want it placed around the heart." She uses her hands to show the size of the material that she had been given by her father all the way back when she was fourteen.

Angel's Hair is a near-mythical material made by horse-sized stygian spiders – so rare that you have to brave the spiders yourself to get it. And they don't trade gold. No, they coveted things like dreams and memories and souls. Her father had said he'd taken it from a merchant who had traded twenty-years of his youth for a hundred yards of it. And after a long, strange conversation with him, he'd given Gallus a few square inches of Angel's Hair. A reminder, his father had quoted. That everything has a price.

How many times Libby was tempted to gamble that simple piece of fabric. The money she would bank, the fights it would start among many. But unlike her father's ring on her finger, of which Libby feels with her thumb, Angel's Hair is of more tremendous value; and Libby had always felt that her father had given it to her to be used, and this has to be one of the ways she could.

The master tinkerer's bushy brows rise. "I – I suppose. To the interior or the exterior? I think the interior," he goes on, answering his own questions. "If I sewed it to the exterior, the iridescence might ruin the stealth of the black. But it'd turn any blade, and it's just barely the right size to shield the heart. Oh, what I'd give for ten yards of Angel's Hair. You'd be invincible, my dear."

Libby smiles slowly. "As long as it guards the heart."


	10. Chapter 9

For a month now, it has been the same dream. Nearing every night now, over and over, until Libitania Desidenuis can see it in her waking hours.

Libby sprints through the darkness of a secret passageway, her breathing ragged. She glances over her shoulder to find Mercer Frey grinning at her, his eyes like burning coals.

No matter how fast she runs, his stalking gait easily keeps him just behind her. After Mercer flows a wake of glowing green arcane marks, their strange shapes and symbols illuminating the ancient blocks of stone. And behind Mercer, its long nails scraping against the ground, lumbers a daedra.

Libitania stumbles, but remains upright. Each step feels like she is wading through mud. She can't escape him. He will catch her eventually. And once the daedra gets hold of her . . . Libby doesn't dare glace again at those too-big teeth that jut out its mouth or those fathomless eyes, gleaming with the desire to devour her bit by bit.

Drawing her father's Nightingale blade, she whirls and slashes, not even caring where it is she sliced, but she keeps running. She glimpses only a flash of withered skin and jagged, stumpy teeth before she slices her blade across its chest.

It screams – screams like nothing she has ever heard.

She keeps running, but she's suddenly tackled from behind. They tumble across the stone floor and Libby growls, following the momentum and pinning the person-thin creature beneath her. Spinning her blade, she drives it down without sparring a look.

There's a gag of chocking on blood and it splays across her face. When she opens her eyes, Libitania screams her throat raw and it tossed back off of the body.

Diamond groans as Libby shoves her sword up through her ribs and into her heart. There's laughing, a mocking chuckle. Libby looks up and finds a gleaming mirror with an ornately carved border. In it she sees herself, her reflection laughing manically at her. She embraces the beautiful assassin like a lover, but when Libby gazed over at herself, her eyes were dead. Hollow.

The dream shifted, and Libby could say nothing, do nothing as the platinum blonde hair darkens to black and the agonized face wasn't Diamond's but her father's. Gallus.

A scream claws at her throat. She can't control herself; and cries helplessly as she stabs her own father with her hands.

The Guild Master jerks, and Libby held him tighter, twisting the dagger one final time before she let Gallus slump to the grey stones of the street. Gallus's blood is already pooling – too fast. But Libitania still can't move, can't stop the blood from pooling.

The wounds on Gallus multiplied, and there is blood – so much blood. She knew these wounds. She knew of the detailed records that described what she had done to her previous Guild Leader Mercer Frey. The way she had chopped him up into literal bits and left his body in front of the gates of Riften.

Libby lowered her dagger, each drop of blood from its gleaming blade sending ripples through the pool already around her. Libitania tipped her head back, breathing in deep. Breathing in the death before her, taking it into her soul, vengeance and ecstasy mingling at the slaughter of her enemy.

The dream shifts again, and Libby looks up towards the mirror again. She feels the urge to vomit. In the reflection is not her . . . but Mercer Frey. And beneath him is her father.

Libby dares to look down and finds her hands coated with blood, her blade gleaming. She looks back and finds the blood splattered in the same exact spots on Mercer as it is on her. Looking back at the body beneath her, Libitania sobs hysterically as Diamond's body pools blood with multiple, mutilated wounds all over her once beautiful face and body.

Looking back up at the reflection, Libby finds herself pinning her father to the ground, and then her reflection leaps towards her. Through the mirror and grabbing Libby by the shoulders, pinning her to the blackness that surrounds them.

Libby desperately tries to fight her doppelganger as the assassin writhed above her, her head still thrown back, that same expression of ecstasy written across her blood-splattered face.

Enemy.

Friend.

Assassin.

There's a chuckle, the sound grating on the stone walls. It's not Mercer. It's male, it's deep, and it is close. Close enough that his fingers rake against the nape of Libby's neck.

He whispers her name, her true name, and Libitania screams as he –

She awakens with a gasp, clutching the hilt of her Nightingale sword pressed to her chest. Libby scans the room for denser shadows, for glowing eyes, for signs that Mercer Frey or the daedra were not in the room. There is only the flickering of the lantern's light on the wall. The twilight of the day seeking in through the window to indicate the day is new.

Libitania sinks back into his pillows. It was just a nightmare. Mercer Frey is gone, and no weird mythical creature is bothering her. It is over.

Still, Libitania Desidenuis rolls onto her side and sobs into her pillow. She clutches the blanket close to her body despite it being moistened with sweat. Her silk nightgown clings to her body, and her throat is dry. From screaming or the heat, she doesn't know.

It is over.

* * *

It's been three days since Libby's attack in the marketplace. All of which the Companions use to regain enough strength to walk around without having to cringe against their sore muscles. Diamond personally needing to stay in bed for one day to recover. Every time pain lances her limbs, she swears colorfully to Libby's name for inducing the wounds on her in the first place. Still, it would be denial if Diamond didn't say she wasn't afraid. If that was how Libby was going to fight now, or how she had always been able to fight, Diamond was certainly in for it.

From the information that was gathered, it was figured that Libby had to be hired by someone to annihilate the Companions, or at least torture them in her own means. If she was hired to kill, she would've done it that day. But since she's gone, it would seem she's drawing it out, but for what reason? Besides her client hiring her, Libby has no personal connection with the Companions; as is expected with Thieves and Warriors.

So far, most of the citizens of Whiterun haven't even bothered to approach the Companions, all keeping themselves locked up in their homes. The guards had been able to clean up the mess in the town's square, but with most of the marketplace closed, it is fair to say that the entire hold was on lockdown.

But that doesn't stop the Companions from continuing on with their mission to search the city and then search the entire hold itself. After breakfast that morning, they each spoke to one another, casually, throwing in bits of their missions here and there, acting as if the brutal attack had never happened. A part of Diamond would've been upset about how nonchalant everyone is, but she mostly felt relived, wanting things so badly to go normal for the time being.

Once their breakfast was finished, she went outside to the backyard and waited for Farkas and Torvar. Once they finally appeared outside, Farkas went ahead to speak with his brother. Torvar taking the time to approach Diamond. "You seem quiet lately. Are you okay?"

Diamond sighs through her nose. Sometimes Torvar is too observant for his own good. "Just thinking too much."

"Are you going to be okay?" Torvar asks. "It's honestly a little weird. Just three days ago you were smiling and bragging about how you kicked my ass."

Despite the fear that's encaging her heart, Diamond gives a small chuckle. "I think I'll be fine. Now that I know who we're dealing with, I won't freeze up I promise."

"I doubt we'll get into any trouble. We're just scouring the city."

"When it comes to assassins like Libitania –" Diamond's mouth permeates with a sour taste speaking Libby's full name. She had nearly forgotten her full name she had grown so used to calling Libby by her nickname. "– trouble will always come."

"You sound as if you know her."

"Well, she _is_ Skyrim's Assassin."

"Are you sure you're alright?" Torvar peruses.

"I'm fine."

"You don't look fine."

"Then stop looking." Without giving him a chance to go on, Diamond turns away from Torvar and approaches Farkas in time as he finishes speaking with his brother. After pats on the shoulders, he turns towards Diamond and Torvar. "Alright, so who has an idea on where we can begin?" he asks.

"The marketplace seems logical, since it was the last place Libitania was." Torvar suggests.

"Fair enough. Seeing as how she'll hide in plain sight, as Kodlak said, browsing around with the citizens should be a good start." Farkas says. "Diamond?"

"That's fine." She says with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders.

They gather their weapons and pack some potions in their pockets. After Diamond fixes her gauntlets and slings her Warhammer securely onto her back. As she leaves Jorvaskrr with Farkas and Torvar, Diamond takes a deep breath and follows them down the steps. They scour their way around the city, most of the market stalls still closed in fear. They ask whoever they can, and each citizen still seemed confident enough to speak to the Companions about Libitania instead of simply waving them off or ignoring them entirely.

Soon Diamond, Farkas and Torvar make their way to the slums of the city. Even if Whiterun if s prosperous city, it is still a capital city and it isn't hard to find its underbelly of slums, and brothels and filthy taverns.

Sewage and puddles of excrement lay beneath every window of the slums, and the cobblestone streets are cracked and misshapen after many hard winters. The buildings lean against each other, some so ramshackle that even the poorest citizens have abandoned them. On most streets, the taverns overflow with drunks and whores and everyone else who sought temporary relief from their miserable lives.

Diamond had scoured this place when she had first arrived to Whiterun three years ago; back when she needed an easy access to the wine without the barkeep asking if she was old enough to tolerate alcohol. It's not a story she likes to share, and thankfully no one questioned her as she led them towards it.

Her throat tightens slightly as she recognizes the guard standing outside. With his bald, scared head, and his one blind eye, his tattooed arms are folded and there's an Orcish sword strapped to his waist. His one eyebrow rises as a smirk crawls across his face, and diamond fights the shiver that trails up her spine. How many times Diamond had bribed him with her coin to get him to allow her entry. But it was when Diamond had given him that scared eye did he learn to never question her again. Still, it disturbed Diamond when she had figured out that her tantrum was a bit of a, turn on for him.

And as expected, he lets Diamond and her group inside without even sparring her a word but he did wink at her with that scared eye she had given him, nearly making Diamond convulse on the floor right there.

Slinking their way inside, one can find the cutthroats, the monsters, and the damned of Whiterun Hold. The filth come here to exchange stories and make deals, and it is here that any whisperer of the attempted assassination of the Companions will be found.

She remembers that Libby had brought her to places like this a few times back when they were younger. It had scared Diamond deeply, as even she hardly dealt with the putrid filth of Skyrim; they didn't pay as well as the nobles. But Libby had always walked in with her head held high and proud, even if it she too wanted to be somewhere else.

They head down the steps into the speakeasy, the reek of ale and unwashed bodies hit him like a stone to the face.

The main chamber is strategically lit: a chandelier in the center of the room, but there is little light to be found along the walls for those who sought not to be seen. All laughter halts as Diamond, Farkas and Torvar strode between the tables. Red-rimmed eyes following their every step.

She moves towards the bar counter, the two men in tow. The barkeep is already pale, his sparse hair sticking to his forehead with sweat.

"Well, this is certainly a surprise. I didn't expect the company of the _esteemed_ Companions to be all the way down here. If I did, I would've brought out the expired brandy. What happened? Get lost on the way to the Jarl's lap? Or are you starting to finally accept your raking as low lives?"

Muffled laughter and snickers ripple through the space. Diamond feels her anger easily boil how could they have so easily forgotten her or so easily dismissed her now that she was a warrior of honor? Especially after that had all witnessed her stab their guard's eyes out with her dagger; or when she had nearly destroyed the entire tavern when the barkeep himself denied her another drink.

When she hears Farkas shift for his broadsword, she knew why.

It's because they _have_ honor. Anything they do risks that, and everyone here knows it. Now that their reputation hangs on the balance, if word gets out about the Companions getting into a fight, in the lowest and filthiest parts of the city, it will surely send the wrong kind of message towards the citizens and the people of Skyrim. Especially Kodlak, and Diamond will not disgrace his treasured guild anymore.

So she quickly flings her arm back, snapping like a viper and grasps Farkas' wrist and gives him a look of warning. He meets her gaze, but he sighs, exhaling slowly and lowers his arms.

"Drink?" the barkeep asks. Everyone in the bar is still watching them, either discreetly or outright.

"No." Diamond says. "We need information."

"How can I be of service?" he asks, picking up a glass and starting to clean it with a dirtied rag. Diamond's lip curls in disgust.

"Skyrim's Assassin." Diamond bluntly says. And immediately there's a clink of dropped cups and all eyes are intensively on them; a nervous vibe fills the air. "We're looking for her."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"_Look_," Diamond growls. She has one plan in mind, and through whatever means, she will execute it. "It's no secret that we've been attacked, by a Nightingale. You can make the connections. Have you seen her?"

"No, I haven't." the barkeep immediately answers, a little snap in his tone. "Now, unless you're going to buy something, get out before I call security for disruption of my bar."

If she was smart enough to bring gold, she would have. It would take a massive handful to get him to talk. But a Diamond is about to use more 'persuasive' methods, she hears the knob to the door hitch, a slight gasp of a customer. That is all she needed to hear before grabbing Farkas and Torvar, ducking them in the shadows of the room in an instant.

The door opens and Diamond can hear the on-eyed guard from outside mumble. "Allow me."

And cloaked in darkness, she stalks inside. She makes no sound as she passes through the threshold. Donned in her Nightingale uniform, she steps into the bar. The cape billows behind her, her face remaining expressionless beneath her obsidian mask as she moves towards the bar counter.

It makes no difference how many see her. None will bother her tonight.

The barkeep is already pale, his sparse hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. He tries to peer beneath peer beneath her cowl as she halts at the bar, but the mask and hood keep her features hidden.

"Drink?" the barkeep asks, wiping sweat from his brow. Everyone in the bar is still watching him, either discreetly or outright.

"No." Libby says, her voice is contorted and deep beneath her mask.

The barkeep grips the edge of the counter. "So it's true. You – you're back" he says quietly, as more heads turn. "You escaped."

So he did recognize her, then. Libby spins the glass in a circle in her hand.

What did he mean "_escaped_?" What does he mean? But still concealed in the shadows, the three Companions take advantage to listen in before Libby attacks; because Diamond knew Libby was aware of their presence.

It is strange, Diamond had known Libby her entire life. She had taken in every detail of thief so she would recognize her anywhere, and she still does. But this time, Libby looks as different as she is. Her body is much more muscled, she seems to have gotten taller, the curves of her body are more pronounced nut not too noticeable. Gods, it would seem that the Daedra have blessed her with more exquisite beauty details than she lets on.

Everything she wears is an enhancement of the killing potential that lies beneath. It is present in her strong jaw, in the slope of her eyebrows, in the perfect stillness of her form. She is a honed blade made but the Daedra for their own profit. She is a predatory animal – a mountain lion or a dragon – and her markings of power are everywhere.

Libitania leans on the bar, crossing one ankle of the other. The barkeep mops his brow again and pours her a brandy. "On the house," he says, sliding it to Libby. She catches it in her hand, but doesn't drink it. He wets his lips. "How – how did you escape?"

People lean back in their chairs, straining to hear. Let them spread rumors. Let them hesitate before crossing his path. She hopes that Brynjolf hears, too. She hopes he hears and stays the hell away from her.

"You'll soon discover that," she says. "But I have need of you."

His brows lift. "Me?"

"I'm sure by now you've heard of my recent appearance towards the Companions." Libby purrs. "I've heard they're looking for me. So I'm assuming they've come in here?"

Diamond can feel Farkas and Torvar tense up behind them, but with her practiced control, Diamond exhales softly and steadies her heartbeat. She slowly draws the slenderest dagger in her belt and grips it into her palm.

"This place might've taken up their interest. They certainly made themselves at home with their approach." The barkeep squeals. And just before that Diamond sees the flick of his eyes. In their direction.

Diamond barely manages to bring up her forearm – protected with her steel vambrace – to block her face as Libby's dagger readies to slice at her nose. Diamond's free hand manages to grab a second dagger from her belt and parry Libby's next stab for her eye. The people in the tavern squeak and scramble out of the way as the brawl begins. They cower in the corners and the barkeep ducks behind the counter. Farkas and Torvar ready their weapons, even if it's clear Libby only wants to battle with Diamond. But Diamond tries her best to try and lure Libby into the three of them.

Libby pulls forth another dagger and she sidesteps out of the way of Diamond's oncoming kick and slices a cut along Diamond's calf before spinning and goes to slash at her side. But Diamond blocks it with her two daggers and their metal clangs against one another before Libby's fist plows into Diamond's jaw.

Pain crackles along the side of her face, traveling up her temple and around her skull. Her back slams into the wall but she keeps her sense in check as she ducks under the next punch armed with a spiked knuckle brace. But the next one comes striking like a viper at her side and Diamond stumbles back, clashing with a table set. Blood dribbles down her chin and Diamond sense the throbbing pain of her split lip.

As Libby charges Diamond, sheathing her daggers, Farkas grabs a chair and swings it towards Libby as she draws a spiked mace. The collision sounds with a bone-shaking rumble and they each can feel the power of Libby as they're sent flying backwards, through the closed tavern door and into the street, the chair flying next to him. Diamond's stomach clenches as she catches the waft of charred wood and her back aches with the feeling of splinters impaling her spine.

_On your feet_, Diamond commands to himself.

Pushing to her feet, Diamond looks over her shoulder, and her eyes wide as she finds Libby's mace glowing. The head of the weapon flickers and spits with fire.

"Why so quiet, Diamond?" Libby mocks. Diamond simply clenches her mouth shut and snarls.

Torvar comes up behind Libby, but the assassin spins and strikes him with a roundhouse kick. Stumbling back, Torvar blocks Libby's coming punches and kick to the shoulder. "Aren't you the drunk of the group? I'm surprised you haven't fallen flat on your face by now!"

Libby then spins under Torvar's blade and kicks him in the stomach. Torvar is sent skipping back, but he's on his feet before he even finishes rolling. Libby stabs her sword into the flame, turns it once, and then swings. Fire explodes as if from the mouth of a dragon. The fire swarms over Torvar's clothes, setting it aflame.

He wastes no time, jumping backwards and rolling along the dirt to extinguish the flames.

As Diamond plows for Libby, the assassin takes two long strides before leaping up and kneeing Diamond in the jaw, then kicking him in the neck. He's sent twirling in the air and crashing into a wooden crate of a wheelbarrow.

Libby this time charges forward in a sprint as Diamond groans and struggles to his feet. Libby crosses her arms and hurls forward. She feels the air leave Diamond's stomach as her arms hit the Companions' sternum. The force jerks the wheelbarrow forward and down a slight incline of the road. As it gains momentum, Libby punches Diamond left and right before pushing off her feet, leaping into the air as the wheelbarrow crashes into an open-ended carriage of cabbage and potatoes.

Drawing two needle-point daggers, Libby spins and dives down like a bird of prey. She spins downwards, but only slices at a sack of spuds. Then Diamond's foot swipes like a snake, knocking out Libby's feet. Libby doesn't even hit the ground before Diamond's knee rams into her stomach and then she locks her hands together and whacks them at Libby's face like a mace. Pain crackles along her cheek, shattering her thoughts, and black dots fill her vision. Warmth dribbles down her chin and Libby knows her nose is bleeding. Her back aches and throbs and the urge to vocalize the pain grows more.

She rolls along the stone, sliding to a stop at the base of a street oil lamp; citizens taking attention. Libby summersaults backwards as Diamond comes running now with her glass warhammer. Libby stands, spits blood onto the street, smiles, and steps out of the way. The two of them dance down the street. As the head of Diamond' hammer go to stab for his face, Libby grabs both of her wrists and swings her to the ground.

Some of the town's people gasp and scream, quickly evacuating the area the moment Libby's eyes spot them. Libby whirls as Farkas comes swinging, his blade whining. When she manages to disarm him, she swipes out his feet with the blade and pins him to the ground. Still he pulls a couple of daggers from his belt.

Wrenching the daggers away, Libby slices off two of the armored belts on Farkas' waist and as she goes to stab the Companion in the chest, Farkas grabs her wrists and spins swinging Libby into the lamppost, denting its shaft. Whacking her to the ground, Farkas raises his foot and goes to stomp in Libby's face. But crossing the two blades of her ebony swords, Libby blocks both attempts and brings her legs up kicking Farkas farther down the street.

He crashes into a flower stand and they sprinkle all around and on him. He growls as he staggers to one knee. Libby finds her flaming mace on the ground and quickly sprints, gripping it and raising it above her head. She manages to make it to Farkas before he pushes to his feet, and Libby swings it once, twice . . . as she goes for the third swing, Farkas' arm whips out and whacks at Libby, sending her back and crashing into the wooden post of a clothing store.

Libby stifles a cry of pain and opens her eyes to find Diamond there again and the next thing Libby feels is her back crashing through the wooden post and sailing through the air and plunging into the fountain located in the main Square. Throwing her head back, gasping for breath, Libby can see the water stained with red from the blood seeping into her mask.

Taking the risk, Libby rips away the cowl and hood and jumps, pushing it against Diamond's face as she goes for another close attack. Libby swings herself over the Companion with the cowl and hood, swinging her over and into the cobblestone. Even as Diamond quickly gets to his feet, Libby delivers an uppercut to her face before spinning and kicking her in the chest; giving her more distance of her dropped Warhammer.

"You're staggering a little, Diamond." Libby mocks with a wide grin. "Have you gotten that weak or are you still that scared?"

Diamond snarls and draws the slenderest dagger from her belt and goes to deliver the deathblow, but Libby grabs her wrist and pushes her away. Punching Diamond left and right, she dodges her swipe of her daggers and goes and elbows the blonde Companion. Libby then spins and swings her leg into Diamond's head, taking the woman's arm as she falls and whirling her up through the air and into the upper level of an abandoned warehouse.

Libby huffs his breath as she carefully treks towards the building. She makes it through the threshold and finds it vacant; small glints of moonlight leak in through the crevices of the wooden building and its limited windows. The place was already slated for demolition. Holes in the ceiling, the walls were weak; not even the floor was stable enough to withstand weight no bigger than a hundred pounds.

Farrkas pushes off a few boards of wood and grunts as he feels his arm throb with heavy cuts. To be honest, he hopes the assassin fled. His body is sore, his head positively aches, and at any moment Farkas fears he will pass out from exhaustion. He is afraid to even lean left and right in fear of snapping his spine.

And now with her mask and cowl gone, she needs to try and keep the battle within the shadows. Most of the citizens had fled the scene once they knew of the dark battle taking place, but he can't rule out a few stragglers who possibly stayed to watch.

Just as Libby looks up and notices a hold in the ceiling, a dark figure comes crashing down and she rolls out of the way, but into a table of shoes on display. As Diamond barrels towards her, spinning dainty daggers with dizzying speed, Libby lifts swings the table only to hear it get sliced in half. Diamond not even stumbling. Libby brings forward her Nightingale Blade and feels the air ridding impact of their collision and she's once again pinned to a wall.

As Diamond lifts her one arm to deliver a deathblow, Libby snaps out her hand to grab a long heeled shoe over her left shoulder. She then jabs it into Diamond's eye and the Companion screams and bolts back, snapping the heel from the shoe itself.

Libby pushes off of her and whacks Diamond with a kick, and in a smooth motion, she sheaths the daggers, draws her bow and aims an explosive bolt straight at Diamond's chest.

Releasing the string, the arrow launches and lands true at Diamond, exploding on impact and sending the Companion crashing into another stack of wooden storage crates. Libby runs forward and beats Diamond left and right with the bow itself and sending her crashing through one of few windows of the building.

They both fall from the second floor and Libby lands on his feet atop of Diamond, intending her further into the gold and white carriage that awaited them below.

Diamond's eyes struggle to open, and she feels irk ass he sees the assassin smirk. "Not bad. At least you've learned to control your temper better."

Diamond snarls. Libby then spins his dagger between her fingers and raises it high. Will she really do it? Is there even a point to capturing Libby alive anymore?

The guards won't be able to contain Libby even if they bring her to them. If escaping whatever prison held her before was less than mere child's play for her, for Libitania, Whiterun's dungeons won't be much of a challenge. "You know if you beg for your life, I'll let you live. It'll be just like old times."

Diamond feels like screaming, but she merely glares at Libby in the eye. What has she become? Diamond can see nothing in Libby's eyes, and the more she sees, the less she likes. Libby coldly smiles and leans her face in close enough to the Companion to kiss her. "You always were a stubborn child."

Faster than Diamond can react, Libby flips over her and jabs her dagger down into the chest of a man. Diamond quickly pushes on her elbows and finds it to be of a man who owns a store she always shops at.

None can look away as they watch Libby raises her sword. With one vicious stroke she cuts off his head.

One blow from that mighty sword.

That is all it took to sever the man's head. So hot is the flame on Libby's mace that the man's body never bleeds, the flesh and veins cauterized by its heat.

His wife would make the best dresses and he always had the nicest clothing. Diamond stares wide eyed as his wife screams lie a teakettle in horror. It is bone-shattering.

The assassin watches his eyes grow distant as she twists the dagger before yanking it out. The body has barely finished falling before Libby makes four strikes: three to sever the emaciated torso in two, and a fourth too stab through where his heart would be. Diamond's bile rises up again as Libby angles her blade a fifth time, prying open the chest cavity of the man.

Diamond is too stunned to do anything other than watch the rest of the man's body topple to the ground. She watches the assassin let the body fall and casually wipe her blade on his pant leg. The woman falls to her knees, sobs wrecking her body and screaming sobs of agony and horror and pain.

Libby loots the body for extra weapons and supplies – including that a hundred coin – and then disappearing into the shadows before the citizen in the threshold of their cottage home call the guards on patrol nearby.

And then the wife, still screaming, is scrambling through the blood towards it – towards her husband's head, as if she can put it back.

As if she can piece him back together.

Farkas and Torvar run to the scene, Torvar making his way to Diamond and helping her out of the carriage. But the moment her feet find stone, her knees rattle with pain as she collapses to the ground.

She stares at the couple, at the massacred body Libby had created, and the screaming and crying of the wife that Diamond could have prevented.

She had failed. She had failed, again. Against _Libby_.

Hands grab her shoulders, and Diamond reflexively yelps and tries to jerk the hands off, until she sees it is Torvar, with his bloodied face and bruised jawline. She relaxes, but her breath is still ragged. Farkas lets the guards take over as he walks over to Diamond as Torvar helps her to her feet. Her knees buckle, but Diamond will be damned if she doesn't walk away with at least the remaining dignity she has.

Oh gods, what is Kodlak going to say? What will the Companions say? Oh gods.

Farkas makes it to the group, his face just as bloodied and bruised, dents in his steel armor and his blade already set with kinks in the blade. He sighs and offers another hand. Diamond only takes Torvar's and hoists herself to her feet.

"Are you alright?" Farkas asks.

Diamond swallows, and takes a couple breaths. She exhales slowly and tries to hide her shaking hands. "Yeah, I'll be fine." She tucks a few strands of hair behind her ears. "But, what do we do now?"

"Well, Kodlak is sure to have gotten wind of the situation. Or perhaps they will." Farkas sighs. He runs his hand through his hair and sighs. "I don't know what we can call this mission."

"We were set out to find the assassin, and we did." Torvar says,

"Silver linings, Torvar. Silver linings." Diamond mumbles aggravated.

"Look, we'll just have to go to Kodlak and tell him what happened." Farkas says.

"But what about the citizens?" Diamond asks.

"Not much we can do. The guards have it under control, and what else can we do anyway?" Torvar asks.

"But, what about –"

"Diamond, look, you can find out details on your own, but we need to get back to Kodlak and give our report." Farkas says. "I'm sorry if you feel like you failed, we all feel like that, I promise you're not alone. But we need to focus on what we can do in the future to prevent this from happening again."

Diamond looks to Farkas and nods. As Torvar hands her the glass Warhammer, Diamond slings it to her back. But it takes both men to pull and guide her away from the crime scene. Even when she's sheltered within the walls of Jorvaskrr, Diamond can't escape the grueling scream of the woman as she tries to piece her husband back together.


	11. Chapter 10

"You did this! This is your fault; you were supposed to protect him!" the woman of the dead man shouts. Guards block her with their weapons crossed and shields ready.

In the grand hall of the Jarl's palace, Diamond and the other Companions stand at the foot of the stairs of the dais leading up to the Jarl's throne.

After their absolutely disastrous attempt to find and capture Libby, again, Diamond and Farkas and Torvar returned to Jorvaskrr to inform Kodlak of their failure. But they had little time for their retribution as the town guard had some barging into the Jorvaskrr (with feign apologies) and told the Harbinger and Companions to meet up at the palace. Diamond nearly feeling like she is going to pass out. First she fails Kodlak, again, and now the Jarl is suddenly calling them up the Dragonsreach. This isn't good.

The wife of the man Libby had assassinated was already there, the guards still holding her back as the warriors filed into the grand hall and up to the throne, kneeling before the Jarl and awaiting his orders. But he merely told them to rise and face the room.

Diamond has had a sick feeling in her stomach since she and Torvar and Farkas returned to Jorvaskrr and told Kodlak of their failure to capture Libby. And despite her not wanting to tell Kodlak of the murder that she once again couldn't prevent, it wouldn't have made a difference, as just moments after diamond did tell him, the guards came to Jorvaskrr. Her eye is red and black all around, and her chest slightly burns from that explosive tip of Libby's arrow.

As the woman continually screams at the Companions, expressing their failure along with vulgar profanities, the Jarl simply stress at her with a stern expression, leaning his chin on his knuckles of his right hand, his left hand tapping the arm of his throne.

Diamond is standing in between Aela and Torvar, giving everything she has into keeping her hands from visibly shaking. Her glass Warhammer seems to have increased in its weight, and her slightest movement will send her towering down. She doesn't even try to lean out to peer at the twins or the other members. Kodlak stands next to the Jarl, his hands at his sides. Taking deep even breaths.

"I can assure you," Jarl Balgruuf says. "we have these things under control. Believe me I am truly sorry for your loss, really. I can assure you we will give your husband a proper burial and ceremony."

"_They did this_!" the woman screams, pointing her shaking, bony finger at the Companions. Specifically Diamond; whether intentionally or accidentally is unsure, but Diamond can see the tears in her eyes and the rawness of her cheeks as she screams. "_They were supposed to protect him! You're the Companions_!"

Diamond can sense Kodlak tense and Farkas growl as he fists his hands. Everyone else seems to take a collective intake of breath, and exhale slowly to control themselves.

"Yrene, please, understand that we are doing everything we can to track down Libitania Desidenuis and avenge your father." Kodlak finally speaks.

"I thought you would've handled her by now!"

"While we appreciate your flattery of your expectations of us, please, remember no one but the divines are perfect. We are mere warriors, and we will fight for your vengeance and honor."

"Brothers and Sisters in honor! Ha!" the woman manically laughs. And then she spits towards Kodlak, the dribble landing just an inch from his boot.

Diamond swallows again as she feels the Companions tense with anger and some of their hands grasping the hilts of their weapons. The woman then gives a vulgar expression of her finger before she turns and walks out of Dragonsreach. Kodlak sighs, and Diamond stares at the spit, flashing back to when that vagrant woman had done the same thing when she mistook Diamond for one of her own.

Kodlak sighs in exhaustion as he turns towards the Jarl. "My Jarl –"

But Balgruuf just holds up his hand and the Companions ready themselves as Jarl Balgruuf pinches the bridge between his eyes and sighs. "I understand she is an assassin, I understand the advantage that she holds against you, but I would have thought that your travels and journeys would have given you more experience."

"Not like Libitania is to be given credit!" Farkas barks, "She's been blessed with the abilities of the daedra. If she was facing us on her own, she'd be dead by now!"

"Farkas!" Vilkas snaps to his brother.

"I – I honestly don't know what else I can do." The Jarl says. "My citizens are starting to doubt you, but I understand what you're up against. I just – I don't know what to do." Balgruuf sighs in aggravation.

"We're not asking you to do anything, my Jarl. Just let us keep handling this." Kodlak says as he kneels before the Jarl.

"You call _that_ handling it?"

"Please, my Jarl, I assure you, I have an idea on how we can stop her. All I ask is that you give us another chance." Kodlak says, and Diamond can't help but give him credit for not sounding like he is pleading or begging to the Jarl, but more with urgency.

Jarl Balgruuf sighs once more, and Diamond can see Kodlak clench his jaw as he watches him. This is the second time the Companions have failed and that Libitania has killed more of Whiterun's citizens. Even if many respect the Companions, surely they can't just expect them to be perfect, especially against Skyrim's Assassin.

Still, Jarl Balgruuf sits up straighter in his throne and squares his shoulders. "Very well, Kodlak; I will give you another chance, and I'm sure I will in the future. I can still sense the citizen's faith in you. So I too shall remain loyal."

"Thank you my Jarl." Kodlak lowers his head.

"Now if you don't mind, I've got a city to keep." Balgruuf dismisses them. He then rises from his throne and turns to head upstairs.

The Companions wait until Kodlak rises and passes them by before following him out, in near single file. Diamond resists the urge to hurry her steps up to him and ask him if everything is alright, or apologize or just cry for him. People are starting to lose faith in the Companions, all from just two encounters of Libby. Granted she murdered citizens, but everyone is Skyrim always seemed obsessed with death. It's like the moment an assassin comes into the equation of things, people expect the Companions to be on top of it and stop it within a moment's notice. They're not perfect. That's what they have to remember. They're brother and sisters in honor.

Brothers and Sisters. She have to remember that. It's not just Diamond fighting this.

She has her family. This is the only thing that keeps her calm as she follows Kodlak back to Jorvaskrr.

* * *

Libitania is sitting at her table in the absolutely worthless inn, wondering how her life had gone to hell so quickly.

She hates Windhelm. Hates the reek of trash and filth, hates the heavy blanket of mist that shrouds it day and night, hates the second-rate merchants and mercenaries and generally miserable people who occupy it.

No one here knew who she was, or why she had come; no one knew that the girl beneath the hood is Libitania Desidenuis, the most notorious assassin in Skyrim's empire. But then again, she doesn't want them to know. Can't let them know, actually.

_No one knows who Libitania Desidenuis is just a young woman_, she remembers the Prince of Morthal saying. Skyrim seems to know or rather remember who she is. Libitania is often connected to both thief and assassin. And they've gotten the intake she _is_ a woman; and they all know that Libitania Desidenuis was the one who had made the connections between the Faceless and the Thieves Guild.

What else is there to hide?

She has been here for two days now – two days spent either holed up in his despicable room (a "suite," the oily innkeeper had the nerve to call it), or down here in the taproom that stinks of sweat, stale ale, and unwashed bodies. Her contact had said that the job was lengthy in the lower part of the slums, but his description was vague compared to what had welcomed Libby. A part of her wants to desperately gut that man for this, but with Libby and her big mouth, she had said she had been through worse, so now she's stuck acting like this isn't the worst inn she has ever stayed in. Which truthfully it wasn't, but between living in a mansion, then a castle, and then back into a mansion, this service is less than shit.

She would have left is she had any choice. But she is forced to stay here, thanks to the Crown Prince of Morthal. She could've sworn her contact had told her all of the details about the mission, but Libby had foolishly tuned him out as she was trying to ease her craving for bloodletting. Which means waiting here, in this dump of a tavern, for a carriage to take him to the capital city.

Libby sighs and takes a long drink of her ale. She almost spits it out. Disgusting. Cheap as cheap can be, like the rest of this place. Like the stew she hasn't touched. Whatever meat is in there isn't from any creature worth eating. Bread and mild cheese it is, then.

Libby sits back in her seat, watching the barkeep with brown-gold hair slip through the labyrinth of tables and chairs. The man is nimble and dodges the hands who grope him, all without disturbing the tray he carries over his shoulder. What a waste of swift feet, good balance, and intelligent, stunning eyes. The man isn't dumb. Libby had noted the way he watched the room and its patrons – the way he watched Libitania herself. What personal hell had driven him to work here?

Libby doesn't particularly care. The questions are mostly to drive the boredom away. Not one of the shops in Windhelm had a single book for sale – only spices, fish, out-of fashion clothing, and nautical gear. For a port town, this is pathetic. But the Hold of Eastmarch has fallen on hard times in the past millennia – since the Ulfric Stormcloak had conquered the continent and redirected trade through Riften instead of Windhelm's few eastern ports. Why no one hadn't bothered to change it is beyond him.

The whole world has fallen on hard times, it seems. Libby included.

She fights the urge to touch her face. The swelling from the beating she had received from Diamond and her Companion brothers has gone down, but the bruises remain. She avoided looking in the sliver of mirror above her dresser, knowing what she's see: mottled purple and blue and yellow along her cheekbones, the still healing black eye, and a still-healing split lip. It was deserved though; it was well-deserved, he tells herself.

Even if she is so angry that she can't think straight. Even if she'd gotten into not one, not two, but three bar fights in the two to three days that he'd been traveling from Whiterun Hold to Eastmarch. One of the brawls, at least, had been rightfully provoked: a man had cheated at a round of cards. But the other two . . .

There is no denying it: she'd merely been spoiling for a fight. No blades, no weapons. Just fists and feet. She supposed she should feel bad about it – about the broken nose and jaws, about the heaps of unconscious bodies in her wake. But she doesn't.

Libby couldn't bring herself to care, because those moments she spent brawling were the few moments she felt like herself again. When she felt like Skyrim's greatest assassin, Zusa Phoenix's chosen heir.

Even if her opponents were drunks and untrained fighters; even if she should know better.

The barkeep reaches the safety of the counter, and Libby glances around the room. The innkeeper is still watching her, as he had for the past two days, wondering how he could squeeze even more money out of Libby's bag. There are several other men observing Libby, too. Some she recognized from previous nights, while others are new faces that he quickly sized up. Was it fear or luck that had kept them away from Libby so far?

She had made no secret of the fact that she carried money with her. And her clothes and weapons speak volumes about her wealth, too. The ruby brooch she wears practically begs for trouble – she wears it to invite trouble, actually. It was a gift from The Crown Prince from the fight she had induced with Diamond and her Companions roughly a week ago; she hopes someone will try to steal it. If they are good enough, she might just let them. So it is only a matter of time, really, before one of them tries to rob her.

And before she decides she is bored of fighting only with fists and feet. She glances at the ebony sword by her side. It glints in the tavern's dank light.

If Libby was smart, if she was levelheaded, she will avoid any confrontation tonight and leave Windhelm in peace, no matter where she goes.

But she isn't feeling particularly smart or levelheaded – certainly not once the hours pass and the air in the inn shifts into a hungry, wild thing that howls for blood.

* * *

Malthyr looks over at his spot from behind the bar as he wipes the counter. The strange young woman has been sitting at the New Gnisis Cornerclub for two days now and has hardly spoken to anyone save the innkeeper, who had taken one look at the girl's fine night-dark clothes and bent over backwards to accommodate her.

He had given her the best room at the clud – the room he only offered to patrons he intended to bleed dry – and didn't seem at all bothered by the heavy hood the young woman wore or the assortment of weapons that gleamed along her long, lean body. Not when she tossed him a gold coin with a casual flick of her gloved fingers. Not when she was wearing an ornate gold brooch with a ruby the size of a robin's egg.

Then again, that sleazing bald man is never really afraid of anyone, unless they seem likely not to pay him – and even then, it is anger and greed, not fear, that wins out.

Malthyr Elenil has been watching the young woman from the safety of the taproom bar. Watching, if only because the stranger is young and mostly unaccompanied and sits at the back table with such stillness that it is impossible not to look at her. Not to wonder.

Malthyr hasn't seen her face yet, though he caught a glimpse every now and then of an ebony strands of hair glinting from beneath the depths of her black hood. In any other city, the New Gnisis Cornerclub would likely be considered the lowest of the low as far as luxury and cleanliness are concerned. But here in Windhelm, in the Grey Quarter, it is considered the finest.

The stranger at the back table lifts her head, signaling with a gloved finger for Malthyr to bring another ale. For someone who doesn't seem older than twenty, the young woman drank an ungodly amount – wine, ale, whatever the innkeeper bade Malthyr bring over – but never seemed to lose herself to it. It is impossible to tell with that heavy hood, though. These past two nights she had merely stalked back to her room with a feline grace, not stumbling over herself like most of the patrons on their way out of after last call.

Malthyr quickly pours ale into the mug he had just been drying and sets it on a tray. He adds a glass of water and some more bread, since the girl hadn't touched the stew she'd been given for dinner. Not a single bite. Smart woman.

Malthyr weaves through the packed taproom, dodging the hands that try to grab him. Halfway through his trek, he caught the innkeeper's eye from where he sat by the front door. An encouraging nod, his mostly bald head gleaming in the dim light. _Keep her drinking. Keep her buying_.

Malthyr avoids rolling his eyes, if only because the innkeeper was the sole reason he wasn't walking the cobblestone streets with the other young Dunmer of Windhelm. He had been eighteen and desperate, and had gladly taken a job that offered only a few coppers and a miserable little bed in a broom closet beneath the stairs.

Malthyr reaches the stranger's table and finds the young woman looking up at her. "I brought you some water and bread, too." He stammers by way of greeting. He sets down the ale, but hesitates with the other two items on his tray.

The young woman just says, "Thank you." Her voice is low and cool – cultured. Educated. And completely uninterested in Malthyr.

Not that there was anything about her that was remotely interesting, with her homespun wool dress doing little for her too-slim figure. Like most who hail from Morrowind, Malthyr has greenish-grey toned skin and absolutely dark-black hair and is of average height. Only his eyes, a sharp gleaming-crimson, gave him any source of pride. Not that most people see them. Malthyr did his best to keep his eyes down most of the time, avoiding any invitation for communication or the wrong kind of attention.

So, Malthyr sets down the bread and water and take the empty mug from where the girl had pushed it into the center of the table. But curiosity wins out, and he peers into the black depths beneath the young woman's cowl. Nothing but shadows, a gleam of ebony hair, and a hint of pale skin. He had so many questions – so, so many questions. _Who are you? What do you come from? Where are you going Can you use all those blades you carry_?

Malthyr only bowed and walked back to the bar through the field of groping hands, eyes downcast as he plasters a distant smile on his face.

Unfortunately, it doesn't last long as the atmosphere in the New Gnisis Cornerclub changes. Malthyr doesn't know how or when it happened, but it changes. It is as if all of the gathered men are waiting for something. The girl in the back is still at his table, still brooding. But her gloved fingers are tapping on the scarred wooden surface, and every now and then, she shifts her hooded head to look around the room.

Malthyr couldn't leave even if he wanted to. Last call isn't for another forty minutes, and he'd have to stay an hour after that to clean up and usher intoxicated patrons out the door. He doesn't care where they went one they passed the threshold – doesn't care if they wind up facedown in a watery ditch – just as long as they get out of the taproom. And stayed gone.

The innkeeper vanished moments ago, either to save his own hide or to do some dark dealings in the back alley, and his female co-worker still in that sailor's lap, flirting away, unaware of the shift in the air.

Malthyr keeps looking at the hooded boy. So does many of the tavern's patrons. Were they waiting for him to get up? There are some thieves she recognized – thieves who have been circling like vultures for the past two days, trying to figure out whether the strange girl can use the weapons she carried. It is common knowledge that she is leaving tomorrow at dawn. If they want her money, her jewelry, weapons, or something far darker, tonight will be their last chance.

Malthyr chews on his lip as he pours a round of ales for the table of four mercenaries playing kings. He should warn the girl – tell her that she might be better off sneaking to her carriage right now, before she winds up with a slit throat.

But his boss will throw him out into the streets if he knew he had warned her. Especially when many of the cutthroats are beloved patrons who often share their ill-gained profits with him. And Malthyr has no doubt that his boss will send those very men after him if he betrays his boss. How had Malthyr become so adjusted to these people?

Malthyr swallows hard, pouring another mug of ale. His mother wouldn't have hesitated to warn the boy.

But his mother had been a good woman – a woman who never wavered, who never turned away a sick or wounded person, no matter how poor, from the door of their cottage in southern Tear. Never.

As a prodigiously gifted healer with no small amount of magic; his mother has always said it wasn't right to charge people for what she'd been given for free by Kynareth, the Goddess of Healing. And the only time he had seen his mother falter was the day the Stormcloaks surrounded their house, armed to the teeth and bearing torches and wood.

They hadn't bothered to listen when his mother explained that her power, like Malthyr's, had already disappeared months before, along with the rest of the magic in the land – abandoned by the gods, his mother had claimed.

No, the Stormcloaks hadn't listened at all. And neither had any of those vanished gods whom her mother and Malthyr had pleaded for salvation.

It was the first – and only – time his mother took a life.

Malthyr can still see the glint of the hidden dagger in his mother's hands, still feel the blood of that soldier on his bare feet, hear his mother scream at Malthyr to run, smell the smoke of the bonfire as they burned his gifted mother alive while Malthyr wept from the nearby safety of the Kragenmoor Plains.

It is form his mother that Malthyr had inherited his iron stomach – but he'd never thought those solid nerves would wind up keeping him here, claiming this hovel as his home.

Malthyr was so lost in thought and memory that he didn't notice the man until a broad hand is wrapped around his waist.

"We could use a pretty face at this table." He says, grinning up at Malthyr with a wolf's smile. Malthyr steps back, but he holds firm, trying to yank the Dunmer into his lap. It always estranged him to think that Nods weren't so welcoming of them in the city itself, but they'll willing flirt and wish to even claim a Dunmer no matter what their gender.

There is just no end to the strange ways of the Nods.

"I've got work to do." he says as blandly as possible. He has detangled himself from situations like this before – countless times now. It has stopped scaring him long ago.

"You can work on me." says another of the mercenaries, a tall man with a worn-looking blade strapped to his back. Calmly, Malthyr pries the first mercenary's fingers off his waist.

"Last call is in forty minutes." he says as pleasantly, stepping back – as far as he can without irritating the men grinning at him like wild dogs. "Can I get you anything else?"

"What are you doing after?" says another.

"Going home to my wife." He lies. But they look at the ring on his finger – the ring that now passes for a wedding band. It had belonged to his mother, and his mother's mother, and all the great Dunmer before him, all such brilliant healers, all wiped from living memory.

The men scowl, and taking that as a cue to leave, Malthyr hurries back to the bar. He doesn't warn the girl – doesn't make the trek across the too-big taproom, with all those men waiting like wolves.

Forty minutes. Just another forty minutes until he can kick them all out.

And then he can clean up and tumble into bed, one more day finished in this living hell that had somehow become his future.

Honestly, Libby is a little insulted when none of the men in the taproom made a grab for her, her money, her ruby brooch, or her weapons as she stalks between the tables. The bell had just finished ringing for last call, and even though she isn't tired in the slightest, she had enough of waiting for a fight or a conversation or anything to occupy her time.

She supposed she could go back to her room and reread one of the books she had brought with her. As she prowls past the bar, flipping a silver coin to the dark-haired Dunmer barkeep, she debates the merits of instead going out into the streets and seeing what adventure finds her.

_Reckless and stupid_, Brynjolf would say. But Brynjolf isn't here, and Libby doesn't know if he will ever search for her again or just forever find recompose in and the Guild's new wealth. It is a safe bet Brynjolf will not search for her, already assuming the worst as she has pulled the death stunt beforehand. They'll forget all about her. He can run the Guild just as fine as any Guild Master. Which is fine. Libby doesn't deserve to be remembered by someone so incredible and thoughtful and loved. Everything he is not.

Libby doesn't want to think about it. Brynjolf has become her partner. Her father figure. Libby never had the luxury of friends apart from Diamond, and never particularly wanted any. But Diamond . . . and Brynjolf had been good contenders, even if neither of them didn't hesitate to say exactly what they thought about Libby, or Libby's plans, or Libby's abilities.

What would he think if Libby just rode off into the unknown and never went back to Ivalice, or never even returned to Tamriel? Diamond might celebrate – especially if it means no more having to deal with Libby ever again. Especially if it means she can spend the rest of his life with his her Companions in honor. So once Libby settles someplace, once she has established a new life as a top assassin in whatever land she made her home, she can ask Brynjolf to join her. And they'd never put up with beatings and humiliations again. Such an easy, inviting idea – such a temptation.

Libby trudges up the narrow stairs, listening for any thieves or cutthroats that might be waiting. To her disappointment, the upstairs hall is dark and quiet – and empty.

Sighing, she slips into his room and bolts the door. After a moment, Libby shoves the ancient chest of drawers in front of it, too. Not for her own safety. Oh no. it is for the safety of whatever fool tries to break in – and will then find himself split open from navel to nose just to satisfy a wandering assassin's boredom.

But after pacing for fifteen minutes, Libby pushes aside the furniture and leaves. Looking for a fight. For an adventure. For anything to take her mind off the bruises on her face and the punishment she had given herself and temptation to shirk her obligations and instead sail to a land far, far away.

Outside, Malthyr lugs the last of the rubbish pails into the misty alley behind the New Gnisis Cornerclub, his back and arms aching. Today had been longer than most.

There hasn't been a fight, thank the gods, but Malthyr still can't shake his nerves and that sense of something being off. But he is glad – so, so glad – there hasn't been a brawl at the club. The last thing he wanted to do is spend the rest of the night mopping up blood and vomit of the floor and hauling broken furniture into the alley. After he had rung the last-call bell, the men had finished their drinks, grumbling and laughing, and dispersed with little to no harassment.

Unsurprisingly, his female co-worker had vanished with her sailor, and given that the alley is empty, Malthyr can only assume the young woman had gone elsewhere with him. Leaving him, yet again, to clean up.

Malthyr pauses as he dumps the less-disgusting rubbish into a neat pile along the far wall. Is isn't much: stale bread and stew that will be gone by morning, snatched up by the half-feral urchins roaming the streets.

What would his mother say if she knew what had become of her son?

Malthyr was only eleven when those soldiers burned his mother for her magic. For the first six and a half years after the horrors of that day, he had lived with her mother's cousin in another village in Narsis, pretending to be an absolutely ungifted distant relative. Is isn't hard to disguises to maintain: his powers truly had vanished. But in those days fear had run rampant, and neighbor turned on neighbor, often selling out anyone formally blessed with the gods' powers to whatever army legion was closest. Thankfully, no one had questioned Malthyr's small presence; and in those long years, no one looked his way as he helped the family farm struggle to return to normal in the wake of Skyrim's forces.

But he'd wanted to be a healer – like his mother and grandmother. He'd started shadowing his mother as soon as she could talk, learning slowly, as all the traditional headers did. And those years on that far, however peaceful (if tedious and dull), hadn't been enough to make him forget eleven years of training, or the urge to follow in his mothers' footsteps.

He hadn't been close to his cousins, despite their charity, and neither party had really tried to bridge the gap caused by distance and fear and war. So no one objected when he took whatever money he'd saved up and walked off the farm a few months before his eighteenth birthday.

He'd set out for Winterhold, a city of learning on the northern continent – a realm untouched by Skyrim and war, where rumor claimed magic still exists and they had even had a college dedicated to magic training. He'd traveled on foot from Tear, across the mountains into Eastmarch, through The Pale, eventually winding up at Windhelm – where rumor also claimed one can find a carriage to the northern continent, to Winterhold. And it is precisely here that he had run out of money.

It is why he had taken the job at the New Gnisis Cornerclub .First, it had been temporary, to earn enough to afford the passage to Winterhold. But then he'd worried he couldn't have any money when he arrived, and then that he wouldn't have any money to pay for his training at the Mages College of Winterhold, the great academy of healers and physicians. So he'd stayed, and weeks turned into months. Somehow the dream of sailing away, of attending the Mages College, had been set aside. Especially since his boss increased the rent on his room and the cost of his food and found ways to lower his salary. Especially as that healer's stomach of his allowed Malthyr's to endure the indignities and darkness of this place.

Malthyr sighs through his nose. So here he is. A barkeep in a backwater town with hardly two coppers to his name and no future in sight.

There is a crunch of boots on stone, and Malthyr glares down the alley. If his boss caught the urchins eating his food – however stale and disgusting – he'd blame Malthyr. He'd say he wasn't a charity and take the cost out of Malthyr's paycheck. He'd done it once before, and Malthyr had to hunt down the urchins and scold them, make them understand that they had to wait until the middle of the night to get the food he so carefully laid out.

"I told you to wait until it's past –" he starts, but pauses as four figures step from the mist.

Men. The mercenaries from before.

Malthyr is moving for the open doorway in a heartbeat, but they are fast – faster.

One blocks the door while another comes up behind him, grabbing him tight and pulling him against his massive body. "Scream and I'll slit your throat." He whispers in Malthyr's ear, his breath hot and reeking of ale. "Saw you making some hefty tips tonight, Dunmer. Where are they?"

Malthyr doesn't know what he would have done next: fought or cried or begged or actually tried to scream. But he doesn't have to decide.

The man farthest from them is yanked into the mist with a strangled cry.

The mercenary holding Malthyr whirls towards him, dragging Malthyr along. There is a ruffle of clothing, then a thump. Then silence.

"Sci?" the man blocking the door calls.

Nothing.

The third mercenary – standing between Malthyr and the mist – draws his sword. Malthyr doesn't have time to cry out in surprise or warning as a dark figure slips from the mist and grabs him. Not in front, but from the side, as if they'd just appeared out of thin air.

The mercenary throws Malthyr to the ground and draws the sword from across his back, a broad, wicked-looking blade. But his companion doesn't even shout. More silence.

"Come out, you bleedin' coward," the ringleader growls. "Face us like a proper man."

A low, soft laugh.

Malthyr's blood runs cold. Azura protect him.

He knew that laugh – knew the cool, cultured voice that goes with it.

"Just like you proper men surrounded a defenseless Dunmer in an alley?"

With that, Libitania Desidenuis steps from the mist. She has two long daggers in her hands. And both blades are dark with dripping blood.

Gods. Oh, gods.

Malthyr's breath comes quickly as the assassin steps closer to the two remaining attackers. The first mercenary barks a laugh, but the one by the door is wide-eyed. Malthyr carefully, so carefully backs away.

"You killed my men?" the mercenary says, blade held aloft.

Libby flips one of his daggers into a new position. The kind of position that Malthyr thought would easily allow the blade to go straight up through the ribs and into the heart. "Let's just say your men got what was coming to them."

The mercenary lunges, but Libby is waiting. Malthyr knew he should run – run and run and not look back – but the girl is only armed with two daggers, and the mercenary is enormous, and –

It is over before it really starts. The mercenary gets in two hits, both met with those wicked-looking daggers. And then she knocks him out cold with a swift blow to the head. So fast – unspeakably fast and graceful. A wraith moving through the mist.

The mercenary crumples into the fog and out of sight, and Malthyr doesn't listen too hard as the boy follows where the man had fallen.

Malthyr whips his head to the mercenary in the doorway, preparing to shout a warning to her savior. But the man is already sprinting down the alley as fast as his feet can carry him.

Malthyr has half a mind to do that himself when the stranger emerges from the mist, blades clean but still out. Still ready.

"Please don't kill me." Malthyr whispers. He is ready to bed, to offer everything in exchange for his useless, wasted life.

But Libby just laughs under her breath and says, "What would have bene the point in saving you, then?"

Libby hadn't meant to save the barkeep. It had been sheer luck that she'd spotted the four mercenaries creeping about the streets, sheer luck that they seemed as eager for trouble as she was. She had hunted them into that alley, where she found them ready to hurt that Dunmer in unforgivable ways.

The fight was over too quickly to really be enjoyable, or be a balm to Libby's temper. If you can even call it a fight.

The fourth one had gotten away, but Libby didn't feel like chasing him, not as the servant Dunmer stands in front of her, shaking from head to toe. Libby has a feeling that hurling a dagger after the sprinting man would only make the male start screaming. Or faint. Which would . . . complicate things.

But the male Dunmer doesn't scream or faint. He just points a trembling finger at Libby's arm. "You – you're bleeding."

Libby frowns down at the little shining spot on her bicep. "I suppose I am."

A careless mistake. The thickness of her suit had stopped it from being a troublesome wound, but she will still have to clean it. It will be healed in a week or less. Libby makes to turn back to the street, to see what else she can find to amuse her, but the Dunmer speaks again.

"I – I can bind it up for you."

She wants to shake the male. Shake him for about tem different reasons. The first, and biggest, is because he is trembling and scared and had been utterly useless. The second is for being stupid enough to stand in that alley in the middle of the night. Libby doesn't feel like thinking about all the other reasons – not when she is already angry enough.

"I can bind myself up just fine." Libby says, heading for the door that leads into the inn's kitchens. Days ago, Libby had scoped out the inn and its surrounding buildings, and now can navigate them blindfolded.

"Kynareth knows what was on that blade." The male says, and Libby pauses. Invoking the Goddess of Healing very few did that these days – unless they were . . .

"I – my mother was a healer, and she taught me a few things," the Dunmer stammers. "I could – I could . . . Please let me repay the debt I owe you."

"You wouldn't owe me anything if you'd use some common sense."

The Dunmer flinches as though Libby had struck him. It only annoys Libby even more. Everything annoys her – this town, this kingdom, this cursed world.

"I'm sorry." The male says softly.

"What are you apologizing to me for? Why are you apologizing at all? Those men had it coming. But you should have been smarter on a night like this – when I'd bet all my money that you could taste the aggression in that filthy damned taproom."

It isn't the Dunmer's fault, Libby has to remind himself. Not his fault at all that he didn't know how to fight back.

The boy puts his face in his hands, his shoulders curving inward. Libby counts down the seconds until the male bursts into sobs, until he falls apart.

But the tears don't come. The Dunmer just takes a few deep breaths, then lowers his hands. "Let me clean your arm." he says in a voice that is . . . different, somehow. Stronger, clearer. "Or you'll wind up losing it."

And the slight change in the Dunmer is interesting enough that Libby follows him inside.

She doesn't bother about the three bodies in the alley. She has a feeling no one but the rats and carrion-feeders will care about them in this town.

Malthyr brings Libby to his room under the stairs, because he is half-afraid that the mercenary who'd gotten away will be waiting for them upstairs. And Malthyr doesn't want to see any more fighting or killing or bleeding, strong stomach or no.

Not to mention he is also half-afraid to be locked in the suite with the young woman.

He leaves the girl sitting on his sagging bed and goes to fetch two bowls of water and some clean bandages – supplies that will be taken out of her paycheck when his boss realizes they are gone. It doesn't matter, though. The girl had saved his life this is the least he can do.

When Malthyr returns, he almost drops the steaming bowls. The girl had removed her hood and cloak and tunic.

Malthyr doesn't know what to remark first:

That the girl is young – perhaps two or three years younger than Malthyr – but looks and _feels_ old.

That the girl is incredibly beautiful. No, gorgeous. No . . . There isn't even any words to describe her beauty. Except maybe that she has been blessed by the gods themselves; with ebony hair and hazel eyes that shine in the candlelight.

Or that the girl's face would have been even more beautiful had it not been covered in a patchwork of bruises. Such horrible bruises, including a black eye that had undoubtedly been swollen shut at some point.

Or that the most defying and newly terrifying fact is that the girl is Libitania Desidenuis. Skyrim's most feared assassin. Gods, and she had come to save _him_. A Dunmer.

If it weren't for her assuming age of twenty, as well as the fact that she is a walking killing machine, Malthyr would've let the girl have him right then and there, killer or not.

She is just staring at him, quiet and still as a cat.

It isn't Malthyr's place to ask questions. Especially not when this boy had dispatched three mercenaries in a matter of moments. Even if the gods had abandoned him, Malthyr still believes in them; they are still somewhere, still watching. He believes, because how else would he explain being saved just now? By Skyrim's _Assassin_, at that. And the thought of being alone – truly alone – is almost too much to bear, even when so much of his life has gone astray.

The water sloshes in the bowls as Malthyr sets them down on the tiny table beside his bed, trying to keep his hands from trembling too much.

She says nothing while Malthyr inspects the cut on her bicep. Her arm is thick, and rock-hard with muscle. She has scars everywhere – small ones, big ones. She offers no explanation for them, and it seems to Malthyr that she wears her scars the way other women wear their finest jewelry.

Malthyr sets about washing the wound, and Libby hisses softly. "Sorry." Malthyr says quickly. "I put some herbs in there as an antiseptic. I should have warned you." Malthyr keeps a stash of them with his at all times, along with other herbs and his mother had taught him about. Just in case. Even now, Malthyr can't turn away from a sick beggar in the street, and often walks towards the sound of coughing.

"Believe me, I've been through worse."

"I do." Malthyr says. "Believe you, I mean." Those scars and her mangled face speak volumes. And explain the hood. But is it vanity or self-preservation that makes her wear it? "Honestly, I don't know whether to be honored or terrified."

"Though both reactions are appropriate, and it doesn't matter."

Malthyr bites her tongue. Of course it is none of his business. She hadn't given a name to his boss, though. So she is traveling on some secret business, then. "My name is Malthyr." She offers. "Malthyr Elenil."

A distant nod. Of course, she doesn't care, either.

Then Libby says, "What's the son of a healer doing in this pieced of shit town?"

No kindness, no pity. Just blunt, if not almost bored, curiosity.

"I was on my way to Winterhold to join their healers' academy and ran out of money." He dips the rag into the water, wrings it out, and resumes cleaning the shallow wound. "I got work here to pay for the carriage over the terrain, and . . . Well, I never left. I guess staying here became . . . easier. Simpler."

A snort. "This place? It's certainly simple, but easy? I think I'd rather starve in the streets of Winterhold than live here."

Malthyr's face warms. "It – I . . ." he doesn't have an excuse.

Libby's eyes flash to his. They are ringed with gold – stunning. Even with the bruises, the girl is alluring. Like wildfire, or a summer storm swept in off the Sea of Ghosts.

"Let me give you a bit of advice," Libby says bitterly. "from one working adolescent to another: Life isn't easy, no matter where you are. You'll make choices you think are right, and then suffer for them." Those remarkable eyes flicker. "So if you're going to be miserable, you might as well go to Winterhold and be miserable in the shadows of the Mages College."

Educated and possibly extremely well-traveled, then, if he knew the healers' academy by name – and he pronounces it perfectly.

Malthyr shrugs, not daring to voice his dozens of questions. Instead, he says. "I don't have the money to go now, anyway."

It comes out sharper than he intended – sharper than was smart, considering how lethal this woman is.

"Then steal the money and go. Your boss deserves to have her purse lightened."

Malthyr pulls back. "I'm no thief."

A roguish grin. "If you want something, then go take it."

This woman isn't like wildfire – she _is_ wildfire. Deadly and uncontrollable. And slightly out of her wits.

"More than enough people believe that these days," Malthyr ventures to say. Like Tear. Like those mercenaries. "I don't need to be one of them."

Libby's grin fades. "So you'd rather rot away here with a clean conscious?"

Malthyr doesn't have a reply, so he doesn't say anything as he sets down the rag and bowl and pulls out a small tin of salve. He keeps it for himself, for the nicks and scrapes he gets while working, but this cut is small enough that he can spare a bit. As gently as he can, he smears it onto the wound. Libby doesn't flinch this time.

After a moment, she asks. "When did you lose your mother?"

"Over eight years ago," Malthyr keeps his focus on the wound.

"That was a hard time to be a gifted healer on this continent, especially in Windhelm. Ulfric didn't leave much of its people – or royal family – alive."

Malthyr looks up. The wildfire in her eyes have turned into a scorching icy-green flame. Such rage, he thinks with a shiver. Such simmering rage. What had she been through to make it look like that?

He doesn't ask, of course. And he doesn't ask how she knew where he was from. Malthyr understood that his grey skin and red eyes were probably enough to mark him as being from Morrowind, if his slight accent didn't give him away.

"If you managed to attend the Mages College," Libby says, her anger shifting as is she had shoved it down deep inside her, "what would you do afterward?"

Malthyr picks up one of the fresh bandages and begins wrapping it around Libby's arm. He'd dreamed about it for years, contemplated a thousand different futures while he washed dirty mugs and swept the floors. "I'd come back. Not to here, I mean, but to Morrowind. Go to Vvardenfell. There are a . . . a lot of people who need good healers these days."

He says the last part quietly. For all he knew, Libby might support the Ulfric Stormcloak – might report him to the small town guard for just speaking ill of the lord. Malthyr has seen it happen before, far too many times.

But Libitania looks towards the door with its makeshift bolt that Malthyr had constructed, at the closest that he called his bedroom, at the threadbare cloak draped over the half-rotted chair against the opposite wall, then finally back at her. It gives Malthyr a chance to study her face. Seeing how easily she'd trounced those mercenaries, whoever had harmed her must be fearsome indeed.

"You'd really come back to this continent – to the empire?"

There is such quiet surprise in her voice that Malthyr meets the assassin's eyes.

"It's the right thing to do." is all Malthyr can think of to say.

Libby doesn't reply, and Malthyr continues wrapping her arm. When he finishes, Libitania shrugs on her shirt and tunic, tests her arm, and stands. In the cramped bedroom, Malthyr feels so much smaller than Libby, even if there is only a few inches' difference between them.

Libby picks up her cloak but doesn't don it as she takes a step towards the closed door.

Gods, even her profile is damningly gorgeous. Despite his common sense ringing to his pointed ears about her age and abilities, he doesn't want this ungodly beautiful creature to leave.

"I could find something for your face." Malthyr blurts.

Libitania pauses with a hand on the doorknob and looks over her shoulder "These are meant to be a reminder."

"For what? Or – to whom?" he shouldn't pry, shouldn't have even asked.

Libby smiles bitterly. "For me."

Malthyr thinks of the scars she'd seen on his muscled body and wondered if those are all reminders, too.

Libby turns back to the door, but stops again. "Whether you stay, or go to Winterhold and attend the Mages College and return to save the world," Libby muses. "you should probably learn a thing or two about defending yourself."

Malthyr eyes the daggers at the assassin's waist, the sword she hadn't even needed to draw. Jewels embedded in the hilt – real jewels – glint in the candlelight. The woman had to be fabulously wealthy, richer than Malthyr could ever conceive of being. "I can't afford weapons."

Libby huffs a laugh. "If you learn these maneuvers, you won't need them."


	12. Chapter 11

Libby takes Malthyr into the alley, if only because she doesn't want to wake the other inn guests and get into yet another fight. She doesn't really know why she had offered to teach him to defend himself. The last time she had helped anybody, it had just turned around to beat the hell out of her. Literally.

The barman – Malthyr – had looked so earnest when he talked about helping people. About being a healer.

The Mages College of Restoration – any healers worth their salt knew about the academy in Cyrodiil where the best and brightest, no matter their station, can study. Libitania had once dreamed of dwelling in the fabled cream-colored towers of the temple, of walking the narrow, sloping streets of the Imperial City and seeing wonders brought in from lands she had never heard of. But that was a lifetime ago. A different person ago.

Not now, certainly. And if Malthyr stayed in this gods-forsaken town, other people were bound to try to attack him again. So here she is, cursing her own conscience for a fool as they stand in the misty ally behind the inn.

The bodies of the three mercenaries are still out there, and Libby catches Malthyr cringing at the sound of scurrying feet and soft squeaking. The rats hadn't wasted any time.

Libby grips Malthyr's wrist and holds up his hand. "People – men – usually don't hunt for the women who look like they'll put up a fight. They'll pick you because you look off-guard or vulnerable or like you'd be sympathetic. They'll usually try to move you to another location where they won't need to worry about being interrupted."

Malthyr's eyes are wide, his face pale in the light of the torch Libby had dropped just outside the back door. Helpless. What is it like to be helpless to defend yourself? A shudder that has nothing to do with the rats gnawing on the dead mercenaries goes through her.

"_Do not_ let them move you to another location." Libby continues, reciting from the lessons that Brynjolf, her father's right-hand man and Libby's personal kill-for-hire, had once taught her. She'd learned self-defense before she had ever learned to attack anyone, and to first fight without weapons, too.

"Fight back enough to convince them that you're not worth it. And make as much noise as you can. In a shit-hole like this, though, I bet no one will bother coming to help you. But you should still starts screaming your head off about a fire – not rape, not theft, not something that cowards would rather hide from. And if shouting doesn't discourage them, then there are a few tricks to outsmart them."

"Some might make then drop like a stone, some might get them down temporarily, but as soon as they let go of you, your _biggest_ priority is getting the hell away. You understand? They let you go, you _run_."

Malthyr nods, still wide-eyed. He remains that way as Libby takes the hand she'd lifted and walks the elf through the eye-gouge, showing him how to shove his thumbs into the corner of someone's eyes, crook his thumbs behind the eyeballs, and – well, Libby can't actually finish that part, since she likes her own eyeballs very much. But Malthyr grasps it after a few times, and does it perfectly when Libby grabs him from behind again and again.

She then shows him the ear clap, then how to pinch the inside of a man's upper thigh hard enough to make him scream, where to stomp on the most delicate parts of the foot, what soft spots are the best to hit with his elbow (Malthyr actually hit Libby so hard in the throat that she gags for a good minute). And then tells him to go for the groin – always try to go for a strike to the groin.

And when the moon is setting, when Libby is convinced that Malthyr might stand a chance against an assailant, they finally stop. Malthyr seems to be holding himself a bit taller, his face flushed.

"If they come after you for money," Libby says, jerking her chin towards where the mercenaries lay in a heap, "throw whatever coins you have far away from you and run in the opposite direction. Usually they'll so occupied by chasing after your money that you'll have a chance to escape."

Malthyr nods. "I should – I should teach this to Jessa."

Libby doesn't know or care who Jessa is, but she says, "If you get the chance, teach it to any Elven brethren who will take the time to listen."

Silence falls between them. There is so much more to learn, so much else to teach him. But dawn is about two hours away, and she should probably go back to her room now, if only to pack and go. Go, because she is ordered to or because she finds her punishment acceptable, but . . . because she needs to. She needs to go back to Whiterun.

Even if it is only to resume the multitude of days of her trying to humiliate the Companions. Staying, running away to another land, avoiding her fate . . . she won't do that. She can't be like Malthyr, a living reminder of loss and shoved-aside dreams. No, she will continue to train with the Prince of Morthal and follow this path, wherever it leads, however much it stings his pride.

Malthyr clears his throat. "Did you – did you ever have to use these maneuvers? Not to pry. I mean, you don't have to answer if –"

"I've used them, yes – but not because I was in that kind of situation. I . . ." Libby knew she shouldn't say this, but she does. "I'm usually the one who does the hunting."

Malthyr, to her surprise, just nods, if a bit sadly. There is such irony, she realizes, in them working together – the assassin and the healer. Two opposite sides of the coin.

Malthyr wraps his arms around himself. "How can I ever repay you for –"

But Libby holds up a hand. The alley is empty, but she can feel them, can hear the shift in the fog, in the scurrying of the rats. Pockets of quiet.

She meets Malthyr's stare and flicks her eyes towards the back door, a silent command. Malthyr has gone white and stiff. It is one thing to practice, but to put lessons into action, to use them . . . Malthyr is more of a liability. Libby jerks her chin at the door, and order now.

There are at least five men – two on either end of the ally converging upon them, and one more standing guard by the busier end of the street.

Malthyr is through the back door by the time Libby draws her sword.

In the darkened kitchen, Malthyr leans against the back door, a hand on his hammering heart as he listens to the melee outside. Earlier, the girl had the element of surprise – but how can she face them again?

His hands tremble at the sound of clashing blades and shouts filtered through the crack beneath the door. Thumps, grunts, growls. What is happening?

He can't stand it, not knowing what is happening to the girl.

It goes against every instinct to open up the back door and peer out.

His breath catches in his throat at the sight:

The mercenary who had escaped earlier had returned with more friends – more skilled friends. Two are facedown on the cobblestones, pools of blood around them. But the remaining three are engaged with the girl who is – is –

Gods, she moves like a black wind, such lethal grace, and –

A hand closes over Malthyr's mouth as someone grabs him from behind and presses something cold and sharp against his throat. There has been another man; he came in through the inn.

"Walk, elf." He breathes in Malthyr's ear, his voice rough and foreign. Malthyr can't see him, can't tell anything about him beyond the hardness of his body, the reek of his clothes, the scratch of a heavy beard against his cheek. He flings open the door and, still holding the dagger to Malthyr's neck, strode into the alley.

Libby stops fighting. Another mercenary has gone down, and the two before her have their blades pointed at her.

"Drop your weapons," the man says. Malthyr would have shaken his head, but the dagger is pressed so close that any movement he makes will have slit his own throat.

Libby eyes the men, then Malthyr's captor, then Malthyr himself. Calm – utterly calm and cold as she bares her teeth in a feral grin. "Come and get them."

Malthyr stomach drops. The man has only to shift his wrist and he'd spill her life's blood. He isn't ready to die – not now, not in Windhelm.

His captor chuckles. "Bold and foolish, girl." He pushes the blade harder, and Malthyr winces. He feels the dampness of his blood before he realizes the man had cut a thin line across his neck. Mara save him.

But Libitania's eyes are on Malthyr, and they narrow slightly. In challenge, in a command. _Fight back_, she seems to say. _Fight for your miserable life_.

The two men with the swords circle closer, but Libby doesn't lower her blade.

"Drop your weapons before I cut the elf open." Malthyr's captor growls. "Once we're done making you pay for our comrades, for all the money you cost us with your deaths, _maybe_ we'll let the elf live." He squeezes Malthyr tighter, but the young woman just watches him. The mercenary hisses. "Drop your weapons."

She doesn't.

Gods, she is going to let this man kill him, wasn't she?

Malthyr can't die like this – not here, not as a no-name barman in this horrible place. _Wouldn't_ die like this. His mother had gone down swinging – his mother had fought for him, had killed that soldier so Malthyr can have a chance to flee, to make something of his life. To do something good for the world.

He won't die like this.

The rage hits Malthyr, so staggering that he can hardly see through it, can hardly see anything except a year in Windhelm, a future beyond his grasp, and a life he is not ready to part with.

He gives no warning before stomping down as hard as he can on the bridge of the man's foot. He jerks, howling, but Malthyr brings up his arms, shoving the dagger from his throat with one hand as he drives his elbow into the man's gut. Drives it with every bit of rage he has burning in him. His captor groans as he doubles over, and Malthyr slams his elbow into his temple, just as Libby had shown him.

The man collapses to his knees, and Malthyr bolts. To run, to help, he doesn't know.

But Libby is already standing in front of him, grinning broadly. Behind her, the two men lie unmoving. And the man on his knees –

Malthyr dodges aside as the young woman grabs the grasping man and drags him into the dark mist beyond. There is a muffled scream, then a thump.

And despite his healer's blood, despite the stomach he'd inherited, Malthyr barely makes it two steps before he vomits.

When he is done, he finds the young woman watching him again, smiling faintly. "Fast learner." She says. Her fine clothes, even her darkly glittering ruby brooch, are covered in blood. Not her own, Malthyr noted with some relief. "You sure you want to be a healer?"

Malthyr wipes his mouth on the corner of his apron. He doesn't want to know what the alternative was – what this girl has witnessed. No, all he wants is to smack her. Hard.

"You could have dispatched them without me! But you let that man hold a knife to my throat – you let him! Are you insane?"

Libby smiles in such a way that says yes, she is most certainly insane. But she says, "Those men were a _joke_. I wanted you to get some real experience in a controlled environment."

"You call _that_ controlled?" Malthyr can't help shouting. He puts a hand to the already clotted slice in his neck. It will heal quickly, but might scar. He'd have to inspect it immediately.

"Look at it this way, Malthyr Elenil: now you know you can do it. That man was twice your weight and had almost a foot on you, and you downed him in a few heartbeats."

"You said those men were a joke."

A fiendish grin. "To me, they are."

Malthyr's blood chills. "I – I've had enough for today. I think I need to go to bed."

The girl sketches a bow. "And I should probably be on my way. Word of advice: wash the blood out of your clothes and don't tell anyone what you saw tonight. Those men have more friends, and as far as I'm concerned, they are the unfortunate victims of a horrible robbery." She holds up a leather pouch with coins and stalks past Malthyr into the inn.

Malthyr spares a glance at the bodies, feels a heavy weight drop into his stomach and follows the girl inside. He is still furious with her, still shaking with the remnants of terror and desperation.

So he doesn't say good-bye to the deadly assassin as she vanishes.

Malthyr did as the assassin said and changed into another tunic and apron before going to the kitchens to wash the blood from his clothes. His hands are shaking so badly that it takes longer than usual to wash the clothing, and by the rime he finishes, the pale light of dawn is creeping through the kitchen window.

He had to be up in . . . well, now. Groaning, he trudges back to his room to hang his wet clothes to dry if someone saw his laundry drying, it will only raise suspicion. He supposes he'd have to be the one to pretend to find the bodies, too. Gods, what a mess.

Wincing at the thought of the long, long, day ahead of him, trying to make sense of the night he'd just had, Malthyr enters his room and softly shuts the door. Even if he told someone, they probably wouldn't believe him.

It isn't until he is done hanging his clothes on the hooks embedded in the wall that he notices the leather pouch on the bed, and the note pinned beneath it.

He knew what was inside, can easily guess based on the lumps and edges. His breath catches in his throat as he pulls out the note,

There, in elegant, feminine handwriting, the girl had written:

_For wherever you need to go – and then some. The world needs more healers_.

No name, no date. Staring at the paper, he can almost picture the beautiful girl's feral smile and the defiance in his eyes. This note, if anything, is a challenge – a dare.

Hands shaking anew, Malthyr dumps out the contents of the pouch.

The pile of gold coins shimmers, and Malthyr staggers back, collapsing into the rickety chair across from the bed. He blinks, and blinks again.

Not just gold, but also the brooch the assassin had been wearing, its massive ruby smoldering in the candlelight.

A hand on his mouth, Malthyr stares at the door, at the ceiling, then back at the small fortune sitting on his bed. Stares and stares and stares.

The gods have vanished, his mother had once claimed. But had they? Had it been some goddess who had visited tonight, clothed in the skin of a batter young woman? Her beauty would certainly say so. Or had it merely been their distant whispers that prompted the stranger to walk down that alley? He would never know, he supposes. And maybe that is the whole point.

_Wherever you need to go_ . . .

Gods or fate or just pure coincidence and kindness, it is a gift. This is a gift. The world is wide-open – wide-open and hers for the taking, if she dared. He could go to the Imperial City, attend the College of Restoration, go anywhere he wishes.

If he dares.

Malthyr smiles.

But then as he's gathering the coin back into the purse, he notices something written on the back of the note as well, along with another folded piece of paper on the back of the note. In more of the young woman's delicate handwriting, it reads:

_By the way, she goes by Leona, now_.

Puzzled, Malthyr carefully detaches the folded piece of paper from the note. It's folded into threes, and as he slowly unfolds it, he almost yelps in surprise. He claps his hand back over his mouth and tries to control his breathing.

There on the beautiful piece of parchment, is a realistic sketch of the woman he had fallen in love with. The woman he couldn't bring herself to follow. The woman he had thought had perished from hardships.

The sketch is only from the head to the shoulders, but has everything: from the scar on her face, to the delicate lining of her hair as it falls around her face. To the usual scowl she wears as he always caught her brooding. The fur of her leather jacket is fluffed and he can see the handle of the long blade weapon she always keeps strapped to her back. In the background, there's the faint sketching of a clock tower and other square buildings in the background.

Malthyr nearly faints from how lightheaded he feels. That clock tower, he knows that clock tower.

It's from Solitude.

This is her way of telling him where to go, if he was smart enough. But how did . . . how did she, of all people, know about his love? He had given her solemn details, if barely any . . .

How –?

But this shouldn't be too hard. Once he has finished his studies, she would travel to Solitude and search for his Leona, and with the picture, at least he'll have something to show everyone.

But then he realizes.

The only well-known Leona was a member of the Thieves Guild's recruits . . . set in Solitude.

A strangled cry comes out of Malthyr. He has to brace a hand to the chair. No, it couldn't be.

His long-lost lover, she had fallen on hard times and took shelter with the most feared assassin in Skyrim, in Tamriel.

And that girl; he had known who she was, but didn't think her charity would run this far . . .

Suddenly his mind is reeling with all of the poems and texts and stories and tales that have been passed through different people of different lands who have dared encountered the girl who was said to be walking Death. But the one he remembers is the word of a song sung by a bard on one stormy night at the Inn.

_The Heir of Nocturnal,_

_She walks with the shadows, she commands the darkness._

_Even with nights where the moon is full, none shall rest._

_A curse by the gods to fill their halls,_

_Men, women, children, she will kill them all_.

He can see those wicked daggers dripping with blood. The fire in her eyes as she easily dismembered those mercenaries. The ebony cloak that flowed and billowed in the wind.

_She is able to charm, but do not be fooled,_

_She is deceitful. She is ruthless. She is cold,_

_With her fairest eyes of legends old,_

_Brightest green, ringed with gold._

Brightest green, ringed with gold. How he had been so easily encaptivated by those eyes. How he had stupidly wondered why she wore a dark cloak and hood over her face. That one bit of proof she couldn't hide from anyone.

Libitania Desidenuis.

That deadly assassin.

His savior.

His . . . friend?

Libitania Desidenuis. The mysterious, dangerous, deadly, beautiful girl that had saved him; heir to the dark empire of Zusa Phoenix's Assassin's Guild, and rightfully titled Queen of the Underworld.

Tamriel's most feared assassin had been his savior tonight. She had completely obliterated the songs and stories told of her. She could have easily slit his throat, but instead, she had saved him. She taught him how to fight.

A shudder runs through Malthyr as he goes over the events of that night. How he had touched her, healed her, how they had an actual conversation. How he is probably the only person in the world who has faced death, looked it straight in those gorgeous eyes, and lived.

Her savior had been Libitania Desidenuis.

Malthyr sinks to his knees.

An hour later, no one stops Malthyr Elenil as he walks out of the New Gnisis Cornerclub and never looks back. A confident smile on his lips.

* * *

Washed and dressed in a new tunic, Libby boards the carriage an hour before dawn. Inside she finds Morthal's Captain of the Guard sitting cross-legged with a smirk on her face, but Libby can see the seriousness in her eyes. Unfortunately, Libby can't bring herself to speak much or rather care to interrogate Nox about the information she must have brought from the prince himself.

Instead, Libby comes in, mask and cloak and all and simply plops down in the cushioned seat across from Nox.

"Good to see you too." Nox says. Libby merely shakes her head.

It's her own damn fault she feels hollow and light-headed after a night without rest. But she can sleep today – sleep the whole ride back to Whiterun. She should sleep, because with her hunger just barely quenched, it's enough to have Libby feel a bit smarter than before.

With the hood and blades, she knew no one will bother her. And while she now has to be careful with the money she has left, she knew she'd hand over another silver or two before the voyage ends.

Sighing, Libby snuggles herself into the seat, peering out the window setting her elbow on the arm rest and looking out onto the dawn-grey bay. She's seen enough of Windhelm; she doesn't need to bother watching the departure.

She had been on her way out of the inn when she had passed that horrifically small closet Malthyr called a bedroom. While Malthyr had tended to her arm, Libby had been astounded by the cramped conditions, the rickety furniture, the too-thin blankets. She had planned to leave some coins for Malthyr anyway – if only because she was certain the innkeeper would make Malthyr pay for those bandages.

But Libby had stood in front of that wooden door to the bedroom, listening to Malthyr wash his clothes in the nearby kitchen. She found herself unable to turn away, unable to stop thinking about the would-be Dunmer healer with the raven-black hair and gleaming red eyes, of what Malthyr had lost and how helpless he had become. There are so many of them now – the children who had lost everything the blood and cruelty of the world. Children who have now grown into assassins and barmaids, without a true place to call home, their native kingdom left in ruins and ash.

Magic has been gone all these years. And the gods are dead, or simply don't care anymore. Yet there, deep in Libby's gut, was a small but insistent tug. A tug on a strand of some invisible web. So Libitania decided to tug back, just to see how far and wide the reverberations would go.

It was a matter of moments to write the note and then stuff most of her gold coins into the pouch. The picture she had drawn while she was trapped in her room with nothing to do. A heartbeat later, she'd set it all on Malthyr's sagging cot.

She had added Prince Joric's ruby brooch as a parting thought. She wondered if a Dunmer from ravaged Tear wouldn't mind a brooch in Morthal's royal colors. But Libby was glad to be rid of it, and hoped Malthyr would pawn the piece for the small fortune it was worth.

Hoped that an assassin's jewel would pay for a healer's education.

So maybe it was the gods at work. Maybe it was some force beyond them, beyond mortal comprehension. Or maybe it was just for what and who Libby would never be.

Malthyr was still washing his bloodied clothes in the kitchen when Libby slipped out of her room, then down the hall, and left the New Gnisis Cornerclub behind.

A flicker of steel reminds Libby she is not alone in the carriage. As she watches Nox open up a fair-sized book and set a piece of paper in one page, she asks the most obvious thing an assassin could ever say, "So when do I get to kill someone?"

Despite the lack of emotion in Libby's tone, Nox chuckles with a smile and shakes her head. "Patience, Libitania. There's apparently more to this contract that either of us thought."

"How so?" Libby says as she turns his head away from the widow as she hears the snap of reins and the carriage starts to depart from the inn and onto the main road.

Nox had contacted Libby days prior to her departure to Windhelm; said something about a special deal between to rooster-strutting nobles. Libby expected some of the Guild members to report it to her or at least bother to approach her. Surely by now, they know of her freedom of Cidhna Mine; or even if they did, then they have already caught themselves up on the current events and want to stay the hell away from her. Pity.

"I need to speak with the Captain of the Guard in Whiterun about it." Nox says, her face and tone serious.

"Why?"

"I told you, patience, Libby. This involves a lot more than just jar-head mercenaries smuggling illegal substances."

Libby groans, rolling her eyes as she leans back into her seat, returning to the window.

As the carriage stalks through the foggy streets towards the city gates, Libitania prays Malthyr Elenil wasn't foolish enough to tell anyone – especially the innkeeper – about the money. Prays that Malthyr Elenil seizes his life with both hands and sets out for the pale-stoned city of the Imperial City. Prays that somehow, years from now, Malthyr Elenil will return to this continent, and maybe heal their shattered world bit by bit. And maybe, just maybe, be reunited with Leona.

It had taken everything Libby had not to seize Malthyr and hug him endlessly when he had spoken his name. Libby had immediately remembered the story of how Leona had told Libby about how she had lost her love while training.

They had met in Falkreath, Leona's hometown before he moved to Riften, and it was instant love at first sight, she had claimed. He was visiting in from Tear, his mother taking him on a trip to the market to gather herbs that could only be found in Morrowind. Leona was fifteen at the time, and Malthyr a year older than her.

Every day was spent with the two of them meeting in the marketplace, each exchanging tales, skills, traits, family stories. And then when the Ulfric Stormcloak had sent out his troops to slaughter all of those who had possessed magic, Leona had said the last time she had seen Malthyr was when his town house had been set on fire. She assumed the worst.

With her own mother bloodily beheaded, her father's innards spilt onto the cobblestones of the streets, Leona was left with nothing. Then she joined the Thieves Guild, working her way up to Master and earning endless amounts of coin.

Hopefully Malthyr was smart enough to figure out the hidden clue Libby had left in her drawing of Leona.

He will. He's a smart Dunmer male.

Smiling to herself as she leans her head against the glass window, Libby nestles into her seat and crossing her ankles.

"So, on a much lighter note," Nox breathes as she sets the book into her leather satchel. "How was your night? Did you make any new friends while I was gone?"

Malthyr is a smart man. So that means he will make the connections easily, if he hasn't already. And he will either love or despise Libby. She's had experiences on both ends, but the thought still makes her heart heavy.

Her smile faltering, Libby pulls her hood low over her eyes.

"No, I don't think I did."

By the time the carriage is out past the city walls with the jade-green gulf gleaming in the sunlight, the assassin is fast asleep.


	13. Chapter 12

Crickets have taken over the orchestra of the night as Diamond finishes her patrol of the streets of Whiterun. The stone crunches beneath her feet, and the hood of her cloak conceals her face. Ever since her second failure against Libby, she's felt the need to conceal herself not wanting to see the eyes of so many citizens on her. But it does so little to block out the whispers that she can hear as she passes by, poking at her skin like hot daggers.

Whispers of her failure as a Companion, or for the Companions entirely. Whispers about how they had so easily been humiliated at the hands of one woman. But that woman happens to be Skyrim's most feared assassin.

Still, Diamond would be lying if she said she didn't enjoy wearing the hood . . . just a little bit.

In her own way, it's reminiscent to have a hood over her head again. She hadn't even put on a cloak since the Brotherhood. A pang of sorrow and grief pokes at her heart. The last she remembers wearing a cloak like this, it was when she was walking down the same street of Whiterun towards the Bannered Mare, in search of Mottiere for the location of the Emperor.

And after she had gutted and dismembered Commander Maro, she went straight to the ship ready to so much worse to Zusa and her entire Faceless; only to walk upon the ship and find Libby . . .

She shoves the thought away and sighs. As her thinking has done all night, she drifts back to thoughts of Libby, and how she's changed, what has become of her. Even with the span of three years between them, no one can change _that_ quickly.

And then there was the talk of how she had "escaped" from Cidhna Mine . . .? When did she even get thrown inside! Who had done it? And why? But more importantly, why does Diamond find herself so curious? Libby had betrayed her, and now she's attacking Diamond without even the slightest hesitation; as if their friendship really had meant nothing. Even on the Emperor's ship Libby didn't put half as much effort in beating Diamond as she did in the marketplace and in the slums of the city. She simply knocked out Diamond with her own Warhammer and most likely swam to shore with Diamond on her back.

That little fact, just something about it made Diamond seem . . . is it content? Because if Libby really didn't care, if none of it was real

Just shows how much she has been hiding from Diamond, and how little Diamond knew of her so called 'best friend.' Still, the thought of Libby swimming to the shore, Diamond heaved over her back, trying to keep her head above water. The swim was at least seven meters, Diamond measured when she swam to the ship on her own; and she was nearly out of breath from swimming with her Warhammer. Let alone with a person . . .

Diamond continues up the road towards the town square, nodding to the guards that she passes. She had passes Belathor's shop, watching his assistant walk home, then there's Ysolda making her way back home as well. Plenty of people are still just closing up their shop. More people to stare at her and whisper.

Stopping in front of the well at the epicenter of the market, Diamond rotates her head around to give the space one final inspection, nodding at the guard posted in front of Arcadia's Cauldron and Belathor's shop.

And then she hears Ysolda squeal. Diamond turns her head thinking – or more rather hoping – that it's nothing. But then more and more squeals and gasps fill the air and Diamond looks behind her and her heart sinks. A chirp of surprise and fear stops in her throat and her hand goes to the hilt of her warhammer.

Taking long but delicate strides, her armor doesn't even make a sound. Her long, ebony cape flows thick in waves behind her, looking like dark wings. Her exquisite clothing, and the mask transforms her into a whisper of darkness.

The dark, intimidating apparition is walking right towards her.

Diamond looks over to the guard, but her heart sinks when she finds him taking steps back as the Nightingale Assassin approaches. Either he too is afraid, or he thinks Diamond can handle herself, or he wants proof that she can.

Even without drawing her blade, Libby has already forced Diamond to be put to the test, forcing her to prove herself in front of the townspeople. Gods damn her.

And yet, as the assassin approaches, the townspeople and guards backing away, Diamond can tell something seems . . . different. Diamond would take a step back, but with the well blocking her path, she can only gently grab the hilt of her dagger strapped to her waist. Reaching for her warhammer would be too obvious. Her reputation already balances on a very thin edge of a knife, is she to just kill Libby right there?

As if aware of the attention, Libby adjusts her cape so the people can get a look at the long dagger with a bejeweled hilt strapped to her waist. Probably another gift from whoever rich client is hiring her.

She lifts her head, and her stunning hazel eyes the only beauty that breaks past her attire of black. Even when they stare at one another, Diamond can feel her heart sinking and beating faster.

Finally, Libby stops just a couples inches away from Diamond, their toes nearly touching. Diamond tries to even her breathing, hoping Libby doesn't see her chest rising and falling quickly. Her blood is already roaring in her ears. And Libby simply stands there, as lethally still as a Sabre cat.

It's then Diamond takes notice upon something that strangely fascinates her – Libby's eyes.

Through the darkness, Diamond's focus narrows to those eyes – once an even mixture of green and brown – are now a deep emerald green. Up close, though, this warring hue is offset by the brilliant ring of ember-gold around her pupil. It might've been brown, but it's just different.

As different as Libby is.

And yet . . . there is nothing there, as though she had been hollowed out. For a heartbeat, Diamond wonders if Libby will kill her – just for being there, for seeing the dark truth of her.

Libby blinks, and speaks so suddenly that Diamond jostles. "I don't have any business with you, _Companion_." She bites, as if the word gives off a bitter taste on her tongue. "Not tonight." Diamond mentally curses herself as she jumped like a scared cat when she spoke, even when Libby's voice is so cool and smooth. _Gods damn it_! "So you may rest easy."

Diamond gapes at Libby, her brows narrowing and a familiar bud of anger burrowing through the roar of her blood. But before she can reply, Libby brushes past her, her cape whispering against the ground. Diamond turns to watch as the assassin walks up the knoll of the Bannered Mare, but doesn't walk inside. Instead, she walks beside the steps, as if making to go around the back. But the moment she enters the shadows, she vanishes.

Citizens still stare at the darkness as if waiting for Libby to reappear, or for daggers to come shooting out. But none do. It is silent. Heads turns to Diamond once again, while minors simply return to closing up shop quickly before hurrying their steps back home or to any safe shelter indoors.

And Diamond just stays dumbfounded by the well.

How – how _dare_ she! Telling Diamond she can "rest easy", like Diamond is still a child in Libby's eyes. Just telling Diamond what to do in general! As if she holds more power, as if she is higher than Diamond! _That_ . . . _that_ . . . !

Anger, so strong and profound, shatters through her stunned silence and Diamond immediately takes off in a hurried walk up the stone steps towards Jorrvaskr. When she makes it to the hill and rounds the back towards the training yard, she takes deep breaths as she nears one of the training dummies. She reaches over her shoulder to draw her Warhammer, but then stops.

This – this is what Libby means. She knew that those words would set Diamond and her temper off. She knew that Diamond would probably storm off and throw a tantrum because she is just that much of a child in Libby's eyes. She knew everything before it even happened; she's probably lounging in her house right now smiling at herself, imagining Diamond whacking way at the dummies like she is about to do.

"No," Diamond whispers, her arms shaking from her rage. She shakes her head as if telling herself not to. "Not tonight."

Diamond lowers her arms, her hands still shaking as he takes deep breaths and walks up the steps into Jorrvaskr.

She enters the main dining room, finding Aela and Skjor sitting on the bench away from the table, while Athis and Ria are seated at the dining table. Diamond doesn't even need to look around the room, as she knew where she needed to go.

She walks along the perimeter of the room and down the steps to the living quarters. Her hands trembling with anger, Diamond makes the right turn and then the straight narrow towards Kodlak's chamber. As usual, there is Vilkas seated across from the Harbinger and when diamond enters the room, their heads turn.

It must be something in the look of Diamond's eyes that makes Vilkas immediately excuse himself from Kodlak's company, opening up the seat for Diamond. Without giving him a proper thank you, Diamond waits until he is gone before shutting the door behind him.

She turns to Kodlak. "What is it, little cub."

At the sound of his voice, Diamond's shoulders relax as she exhales. She almost feels like crying from the overwhelming anger she has forced herself to keep contained. She unsheathes the warhammer and sets it aside against a bookcase, simply to try and relief herself of the sudden weight that compresses through chest and shoulders. She takes the seat at the table across from Kodlak, feeling the exhaustion slowly seep across her body like tar. "I saw Libby." Diamond says, her voice sounding hoarse.

Kodlak's eyebrows rise, the only indication of surprise he shows, and waits for her to continue.

"She was just, walking through the marketplace, just completely out in the open and . . ." Diamond puts a hand over her eyes, exhaling deeply. "and she stopped in front of me, and she said: _I don't have any business with you, Companion.__So you may rest easy_. And then she just walked off and disappeared into the shadows."

"Hmm, I see." Kodlak hums. "Did you do anything?"

"No! And that's what frustrates me!" she says springing up from her seat. "Why didn't I do anything?! She was barely a foot in front of me, I could've stabbed her or something, and yet, I just stood there like an idiom and _let_ her get away!"

"Diamond, Diamond." Kodlak coos, rising from his seat and stepping over to the frizzled Companion. He places his massive hands on her shoulders and rubs her arms. "Relax, you did nothing wrong."

"I humiliated us, _again_!" Diamond argues, her eyes swelling with tears. "The guards and townspeople were watching me, waiting for me to do something and I just let her walk away."

"Something else must've happened. Please." Kodlak gestures to their chairs and Diamond takes her seat once more. She wipes her hands on her knees as Kodlak takes his dagger and slices a piece of the juniper berry pie Diamond didn't even notice was on the table. "Now, did anything else happen between you to?"

He puts the slice on a plate and hands it to Diamond. She takes it reluctantly and accepts the fork he hands her as well. Truthfully she's not hungry, but just accepting it seemed polite.

"I mean, nothing, really. We just stared at each other." Diamond says.

"And what did you see?" Kodlak persists.

Diamond looks to her, nearly laughing, the air coming through her nose and her chest compressing slightly, but still she merely blinks. "Um, I saw . . . _nothing_. It was as if, the life had been sucked out of her. She didn't seem like herself even when she was walking towards me. Like something had shattered her –"

Her voice cuts off when her throat tightens, and she presses her lips to the back of her hand to muffle a sob. Suddenly she is baffled, but then feels the warm of her tears before she realizes she was crying.

"Oh," Diamond sniffles. "I – I'm sorry." She wipes her cheeks with the heel of her palm.

"Why are you crying, Diamond."

She sniffles again and gives a breathy laugh. "I don't know. I'm sorry." She repeats.

"No, no." Kodlak pats her knee. "Don't be sorry. There is nothing to be ashamed for."

"But I just . . . don't know why." She continues to wipe her cheeks, her nose growing congested.

"Maybe because you feel sorry for her."

"What? No." Diamond looks around and finds a small box of tissues. She gets up and plucks one and covers her nose. "Don't look." She mumble, and with a chuckle, Kodlak diverts his attention as he hears the girl sloppily blow her nose. When she disposes of the tissue, she returns to her seat. "How could I feel sorry for her after everything she's done?" she asks.

"Perhaps it's still the bond you two share."

"We don't share anything anymore." Diamond says coldly.

"Diamond, from what you told me, you two were as tight as two peas in a pod. She was gone for years, imprisoned in a mine and you don't know what happened to her. And when you see her now, it's completely different from when you knew her before. And you know," Kodlak leans in, trying to peer under Diamond's lowered head. "That something must've happened to her to look so broken."

"But I shouldn't care!" Diamond barks, lifting her head. Kodlak leans back with the same calm he always has. "We broke things off years ago, and she never bothered to look back and neither did I. She didn't care how broken she made me, so why should I care?"

"Because it makes you the better person."

Diamond pouts. "Being the better person is folly. But even if I do feel bad for her – which I don't – that doesn't mean I have to help her . . . does it?"

"Only if she lets you. Or only if she wants it."

"I don't even know her anymore, so I can't guarantee anything."

"I'm not asking you to, Diamond. But if you should ever meet her again in the future, and we both know you will, however you chose to handle it, it's your decision." Kodlak says, and he gives her chin a little bit of a nudge with her knuckle.

Diamond looks into those ancient eyes filled with wisdom and years of the same experience and even more. Somehow, Diamond just knew that he understood, just as he always did even from the day when Kodlak had found her drunk and half dead from a pack of wolves. Diamond had given up on life by then and was ready for her soul to join her Brotherhood members in the Abyss of Sithis, but then, Kodlak came and rescued her for reasons he has still been so resistant to share. But Diamond never bothers to pry, he saved her life, and she will forever be in his debt.

"Very well. Excuse me." Diamond says before rising from her seat and taking her Warhammer with her.

Kodlak watches until her platinum blonde hair disappears into the sleeping quarters.

* * *

The poor girl. She still doesn't understand.

As the Harbinger haunches over his desk filled with stacks of books, he can't seem to take his mind off of the poor Companion.

She doesn't understand that her heart still longs to seeks and aid the assassin. Even with their rough past ending in ashes, she still trifles through those ashes looking for the jewel, the diamond. Unknowingly or not, it pains her to see her once friend suffer internally. And let alone that friend having a fierce reputation as a killer.

But further still, both girls are unaware of the fate that the Divines have for them.

His dreams . . . normally they'd be about his forsaken death and escaping Hircine for Sovengarde, but now . . .

Now they show of ancient battles, of gleaming arrows of gold, of the sun raining down upon humanity. He can see the gleaning armor of Snow Elves and mortal warriors, hear the clash of shields and the snarl of vicious beats, and smell blood and rotting corpses all around them. Carnage trails in the wake of the assassin. The Companion's Harbinger shudders.

And his little pup . . . he can hear her roar over the horizon, see swords with eyes, and blood streaming down her clothing and trailing behind her like a crimson cloak. Hircine wishes to claim her, her spirit strong and right for his hunting grounds. But the girl deserves to be in the home of her humans. But how . . .?

Sighing, the Harbinger rises from his seat and walks into his bedroom and grabs the thick brown leather cloak hanging on his coatrack. Slinging it around his shoulders, the Harbinger skillfully makes his way down the hall, past his sleeping members of The Circle and out of the living quarters, and out of Jorrvaskr.

Stalking through the streets, his sword at his side, he prays to Hircine, to Talos, to the Nine Divines to keep him safe tonight. This is probably the most reckless thing he's ever done, but admittedly it does make him feel young again. As he prowls through the streets, guards on duty nod to him in respect. If they knew what he was doing, they wouldn't see him more than a crazy old man.

He walks through the streets, casting his head from side to side, checking every little shadow he can in signs of movement. The Jarl had wanted them to stop Libitania Desidenuis through means of killing. But knowing the past history of her and Diamond, he feels a more, direct approach can be adjourned.

And then he spots her. Gliding through the darkness like a wraith, she weaves behind houses and buildings, her hood over her head, but glints of her many weapons around her waist in the moonlight.

The moment she enters the shadows, she vanishes before courageously reappearing in the thin rays of moonlight casting across the buildings. Kodlak lifts his head, his nostrils flaring. Catching her scent, she seems relaxed. Heartbeat normal and breathing even, and her blood pressure seems to be stabilized.

Kodlak watches until she is at least thirty feet ahead before following, keeping track of her scent to follow her. Assassin or not, his lycanthropy can track her from miles away. Keeping his eyes on the shadows, making sure he can outline her with his specially adapted

It doesn't take long to realize that she's headed to the more decrepit part of Whiterun; buildings are less presentable and the roads are more paved with trash and sewage and waste, more and more vagrants appear on the streets but they quickly back away as the assassin approaches. Kodlak can only imagine how she must appear – faceless, cloak waving behind her, striding past them like Death itself. Some of the vagrants even sketch invisible marks in the air, warding off whatever evil they think she is . . .

Peering ahead, Kodlak sees a few abandoned buildings, but the one that seems to stand out is the old temple of Kynareth. Kodlak remembers the temple, a group of annoying vagrants unfortunately had to be vacated because the temple was to undergo reconstruction. When Kodlak and Vilkas went searching for it, they had to stop in a jeweler's shop and ask for directions. The man had said that the temple they were looking for is just down the street past a large fountain at the center of a square. He told the Companions that it's been shut down for centuries, and is boarded up and poorly reconstructed so it shouldn't be hard to find.

Kodlak leaves his shelter of an alcove and carefully tracks the assassin as he watches her pass that very same chipped and cracked fountain and towards the steps of the temple.

Her cloak ripples along the steps behind her, black like a ribbon of ink; and he can see curls of shadows drooling off her Ebony Mail and permeating the cloak into an even darker shade of night. He stays concealed far enough from the temple and watches until the assassin is at the front door. Then when one of the two giant double doors have closed, the Harbinger waits a full minute before he emerges and approaches the entrance.

He frowns, at last admitting to himself that something had felt funny since he followed assassin into the slums. Only now, however, can he place his finger on what.

He slows his run to a jog, listening to the lonely, hollow clap of his boots.

Quiet.

Everything around him stands really still and really . . . _quiet_.

The breeze that greeted him outside the intersection has vanished somewhere between there and here, and he looks up now to find the tree limbs motionless, their leaves immobile.

Or are those leaves at all?

A black shadow moves in one of the trees, and Kodlak registers the silhouette of one huge black bird. It makes no sound, though it seems to watch him from its perch. One of the leaves at its side moves. Another bird. Soon, with a ruffle of feathers, he notices another and, on his other side, another.

One of them breaks the silence with a caw, the sound falling harsh on Kodlak's ears, rasping and raw.

Spooked, the Harbinger picks up the pace again, making his way towards the large incline of stairs to the temple.

The temple has been stripped of all its valuables, the double doors boarded shut. Planked by palmetto and cypress trees, it looks like it could have been the king of place where people sit on the porch drinking mint juleps and playing cards all day. Huge white Doric pillars, paint peeling from years of neglect, supports a roof that slopes too sharply to one side, giving the impression that the temple is leaning over like an arthritic old woman. The windows are covered in vines a debris, making it impossible to see inside. The covered porch is splintered and falling away from the house, threatening to collapse if one dares to set as much as a foot on it. Thick ivy grows so densely over the exterior walls that in some places it is impossible to see the windows underneath. As if grounds have swallowed up the house temple itself, trying to take it back down into the very dirt it has been built upon.

There's an overlapping lintel, the part of the mean that lies over the door of some really old buildings. Kodlak can see some sort of carving in the lintel. Symbols. They look like circles and diamonds, maybe Shadowmarks left by previous, or still residing guilds. Kodlak takes a tentative step onto a groaning stair so he can get a closer look. They're more like hieroglyphs, surrounding what looks like a single word, in a language Kodlak doesn't recognize. It has probably meaning to the generations of priests and priestesses who lived here before the place was falling apart.

The Harbinger takes a breath and vaults up the rest of the porch steps, two at a time. He figures his odds of not falling through them by fifty percent if he only lands on half of them. Immediately as he reaches for the brass ring, Kodlak pushes open the calcified iron door handle.

Light floods through the windows, which seems impossible considering the windows on the outside of the temple are completely covered in vines and debris. Yet, inside it is light, bright and filled with antebellum heirlooms.

Kodlak walks down the aisle, looking all around at the massive expanse of the high vaulted ceiling. His cloak whispers along the runner as he shrugs it around his shoulders.

Where there had been painted glass are now thick boards with even thick nails. Where there had once been rows of benches are now splinters with ruts in the floor. The entire place stinks of feces and urine. Cobwebs decorate the corners and crevices of the buildings, the sound of scurrying rats around, one having the courage to run right across Kodlak's toe. His footsteps echo on the faded red rug, though with the room empty the acoustics are amplified incredibly.

But something else feels wrong now, and it isn't just the stillness. The air around him has seemed to compress, to grow denser. He can't explain it, but it feels as though the night itself, unnatural in its calmness, has begun to move in on him, to close in tight.

His nerves prickle. Along his neck and arms, all hairs rise to stand on end.

There's a sudden soft scuffle across the floor, and the creaking of the wooden banisters along the ceiling. He stops his walking and barely glances over his shoulder.

He listens.

Nothing. The silence grows, feeding on itself until it becomes a dull roar in his ears.

He continues towards the alter where a dusty podium awaits. Out of the corner of one eye, he thinks he sees the edge of a dark _something_.

Then at the last second, he draws his sword and whirls around, only to find nothing behind him.

That's when a fist strikes him, smashing into his temple, followed by a swift kick to his groin. As he stagers to one knee, he can't help but smile. Another punch strikes his nose and when he tries to grab for the wrist, fingers wrap around his own and he's harshly twisted downward, wincing as the bones of his arm protests in pain and his spins slaps into the rug.

"You are a foolish old man." A voice laced with venom hisses in his ear.

His heart skips a beat. She knew. And she even managed to elude his heightened senses. How?

Kodlak angles his arm to unwind and goes to grab her, but his hand only finds plumes of black. Pushing to his feet in an instant, Kodlak picks up his sword and slings his shield off of his back.

There's a _whoosh_, and a dark figure glides in his peripherals but he doesn't swing. He won't be a made a fool of by her petty tricks.

There's another dappled form at his left. Figures, tall and long, rush through the blackness on either side of him, their movements too fast. Impossibly fast. They seem to multiply as, out of his periphery, he spots yet another.

"Petty tricks, assassin." Kodlak says to the shadows. "Just petty tricks. I will not be treated as a fool."

He then watches as the shadows gather towards the entrance of the temple and condense thicker.

Then she appears.

She comes through the inky fog, no more than a sliver of darkness. She doesn't run – just walk with that insufferable swagger. Shadows ripple along the edges of her form, and her emerald-green eyes flare.

One step at a time she approaches. The sword on her back whines as she draws it. The moonlight glints off the long blade. "In this space, I can take my own sweet time cutting you apart. And in this forgotten street, no one will find you." She purrs.

"I have not come to fight you, assassin." Kodlak says, steadying his heartbeat as she approaches still.

One foot after another, she walks towards him with predatory calmness. Kodlak still doesn't move even when she stops, close enough to kiss him. "Then I will really, _really_ enjoy making you suffer."

Kodlak only has a second to react, bringing up his sword to block her own before she could jam it into his heart. He blocks her other hand, striking at him like a viper, with his shield and pushes the assassin off. She leaps and rolls backwards, crossing her arms, and vanishes in a puff of smoke.

"I may be old, but I still have the fire of my warrior years." He hollers.

A long, thick shadow stretches from the entrance of the temple, followed by a sultry laugh. Then, out of that shadow leaps the assassin. Her feet slam into the small of Kodlak's back. He cries out in pain as he stumbles forward, his sword slashing behind him blindly. Its blade slashes her leather vambrace, but cuts no flesh. A dagger strikes Kodlak, cutting a thin but bloody wound across the bicep of his arm.

Kodlak falls forward, avoiding the viscous thrust aimed between his collarbone and neck that would have surely finished him. The dagger strikes his armor and sparks shower to the ground. When the assassin spins, thrusting it forward, Kodlak twists so she stabs directly into his thick shield. The dagger's blade manages to pierce through the shield's four-inch-thick metal, and the tip is just above the handle of Kodlak's hand.

"At least you can teach an old dog new tricks." she says. Drawing another dagger from her belt the assassin slashes back and forth with her blades. Kodlak ducks, shifts, and leaps away, each cut passing close enough to scar more of his armor. When his sword stabs forward, it should have pierced the assassin's heart. Instead he cuts smoke, for she is gone.

"I come with a proposition for you, assassin." Kodlak speaks to the blackness, the light of the windows seemingly gone. Within the smoke, he hears laughter.

Something sharp pierces his side, just above his belt. Warm blood pours down his thigh. He feels it twist, and the pain doubles. Kodlak swings, but he feels blind and dull. His sword cuts air and smoke, nothing more.

"You must either have a death wish, or you are incredibly stupid. Why in the world would I ever consider a deal with you?"

"Because it can be beneficial to us both." He answers.

Before the smoke can clear, he sees the assassin lunging at him, her dagger aimed for his eye. He goes to block, but her reaction is quicker. She bats aside his shield arm and twists the wrist of his sword hand as is shoots up. Her right hand reaches forward, grabbing Kodlak's neck and crushing his throat.

Lifting her arm, she holds the Harbinger high until his feet dangle off of the ground. Gods, the power of the Daedra is with her. Blood streams down his sternum, his bicep and in a few other places that he can't claim because the plain binds it all together into a colophony of suffer.

"Your rein ends now, Harbinger." The assassin says, and Kodlak watches as the Ebony Mail grows darker than night, consuming its detail and slowly the dark tendrils crawl their way up her right arm and towards her hand, towards his face. Her hood and mask fall around her shoulders, revealing her beautiful face.

"Cease, assassin. My proposition will have you walking away rich and even more empowered." He says, his voice hoarse.

"You dare doubt my skills?" she tightens her hand. "What could your pathetic guild _possibly_ offer me?"

The blackness has reached him, and the smell if the first thing that assaults his senses. It reeks of rotted corpses and the most retched sewage and all of the worst kind of anything in Skyrim. He has a limited time, as he can already feel the poison dulling his vision. The world turns blurry and black dots are buzzing into his vision.

His voice feels dry and like leaden in his throat, but he manages to croak: "A second chance."

And then stillness.

It's as if the shadows, the assassin and the air itself in the temple freezes in place. The compression suddenly vanishes and Kodlak can't help but think that there are millions of eyes just staring. At any moment he expect the blade of her dagger to plunge through his neck.

But then the assassin's hand releases his neck and the Harbinger falls to the floor, coughing and gagging on ash and bile. He holds his throat and coughs, the assassin letting him. The shadows then seem to swirl and churn up towards the skylight of the temple, letting the light cut through it like a knife and then is seems to vanish, freshening the air.

Once he is able to breathe again, the Harbinger looks up to the assassin's intimidating dark form, her emerald orbs tearing into his soul.

"What is your proposition?"


	14. Chapter 13

The next morning, Diamond awakens and stretches her limbs. Her toes brush up against a pitcher on the end table and she sighs. Fluttering her eyes open, Diamond gazes up at the ceiling, still thinking about what Kodlak had said.

Does she really still care about Libby, even after everything she had done? Of course she can deny it, but at the same time, there is that little tug in her chest that argues otherwise. It's just little things: the thought of Libby hauling Diamond to shore instead of leaving her to die on the Emperor's ship, Libby teaching Diamond about self-defense, how to wield other weapons instead of just her Warhammer, Libby bailing Diamond out of jail time and time again, the two of them sharing a pint of ale on the rooftops of Solitude, the two of them in combat; they were unstoppable.

It's despicable, but Kodlak did say it was _her_ decision. And Libby made hers long ago, and didn't hesitate.

And the next time she meets Libby, it _will_ be the last. And she won't hesitate.

Sighing, Diamond rolls out of bed and sluggishly makes her way towards the cupboard she shares with Ria. Diamond's drawer was the top one, and Ria's was the one below that. Rummaging through her shirts and tunics, Diamond finds her oldest one – fresh and clean – and shrugs it one, then one by one, she adds the belts and pieces of her iron armor before finally slinging her glass Warhammer over her back. Yeesh, the outfit alone is enough to weigh anyone else down, thank goodness her own body had grown accustomed to it. Now she run with ease while in it.

Finishing adjusting the straps of her belt, Diamond looks up and finds Torvar walk in with a goblet, no doubt already filled with mead. Sighing, Diamond walks over and immediately takes the goblet from him as he's about to take another sip.

"It's a little early for you to be drinking, isn't it?" Diamond says as she walks over to the potted palm at the corner of her room and dumps the contents of the drink into the dirt.

"Hey!" Torvar shouts. "That was part of my morning ritual." He whines.

"I just saved you. Watch, this plant is going to be dead by nightfall." She says as she sets the goblet back into Torvar's hand.

Torvar simply glances at the goblet before tossing it aside. "Well, now you at least owe me a slice of your ham tonight at breakfast."

"Get lost!" Diamond chuckles as she shoves Torvar as they head for the doors leading up to the main floor.

"I need to protein." Torvar chuckles.

They pass through the double doors and up the steps, passing Tilma with a smile and wave. Most of the Companions members are already up, but the first thing that strikes Diamond upon immediately entering the room . . . is the quiet. And it's not complete silence, there is silent murmurs and whispered conversations, but even that is considered silent when living with the Companions, where a fight breaks out at breakfast over the last piece of a sweetroll. Torvar seems to notice the silence as well as they approach, keeping close to Diamond.

Surveying the table, Diamond can see Aela sitting next to Skjor as usual, the twins together sit along the length of the table, Ria, Njada are sitting or standing on or bear a bench near the table, Athis sitting along one width of the table, ushering Torvar and Diamond over.

As they sit down, Diamond finally looks at the rest of the table, and her heart jumps in her throat.

Kodlak is standing across other end of the table, a person – whose face was concealed by the hood of a cloak – shrouded in a bright violet fabric sitting next to him. Diamond doesn't immediately assume it's the Faceless, as the cloak color is deep instead of dark. Almost like the color of an amethyst gemstone with gold embroidery along the folds. From what Diamond could see by the firelight, whoever this girl is, is about her age but appears older –more like a woman than a young girl. She had rose-red lips, and skin as white as snow, but her rounded face helps to show her youth and innocence. Whatever clothes she wears, it is hidden well by the cloak, and she keeps her head down.

But when Diamond turns to Kodlak, she feels her anger fear and confusion wallow in her like tar.

Kodlak's usual armor is gone, only wearing a grey tunic with short sleeves revealing the already tainted bandages around his bicep. They look recently changed since the blood spots are already still permeating underneath. And by the way he holds his sternum, there must be more bandages underneath. From her years as an assassin, Diamond knows how to tell were a certain injury can be located something Veezara had taught her when trying to gain an advantage in battle against multiple opponent.

And then Kodlak's throat . . . _By the Eight_, his throat is deeply bruised and – and in the shape of a handprint; the fingers stretch around on side, the heel ending on his Adam's-apple.

Diamond can see a couple other thin cuts that have already clotted, not as serious, but nonetheless, she is concerned but more importantly angry. Where did he go? Who did he battle against that gave him those injuries? And most importantly, where can Diamond find them so that she can gut them alive? Slowly.

Kodlak's head then turns to Diamond so suddenly that she flinches slightly, feeling as if she had been spying on him. He gives her a gentle smile, and she can see the exhaustion wallowing inside from the bags under his eyes and the look of weariness.

Carefully, Diamond flares her nostrils, catching Kodlak's scent; slight perspiration around the neck, and his heartbeat is steady, with little tippets every time he inhales. Nervousness. Aela and Vilkas whisper to one another, and Farkas simply stares at the young woman in wonder.

Once everyone has been accounted for, Kodlak clears his throat, but then he speaks, his voice is still very hoarse and low and the Companion members – those without the hearing senses of a werewolf – all need to strain to hear.

"Welcome, my Companions. Good morning." Kodlak coughs a little. "I apologize for my voice, it's not quite with me this morning."

"Caught a bit of a bug, Kodlak?" Torvar immediately speaks, earning him glares from members of the Circle, and a kick from Diamond underneath he table. She kicked him hard enough that he has to bite his lip to keep from barking in pain.

But Kodlak chuckles low. "Something along those lines, Torvar. I appreciate your concern."

"Master, perhaps you should rest." Vilkas suggests.

"I am fine, Vilkas, just need to do a few good coughs." Kodlak waves. "Besides, today is a special day, and I wanted to make sure everyone was present today."

"What's going on, Kodlak?" Skjor says, eyeing the young woman as well.

"We have a new member joining us today, and I wanted everyone to welcome her here today."

Diamond's throat inexplicably goes dry, and she nearly coughs.

"New recruit?" Farkas says. "You've never done this before for any of the others."

"She must be special then." Aela says wearily.

"Indeed." Kodlak nods. "Please, everyone . . .

His voice suddenly grows distant as Diamond watches his hand lift and reach towards the woman's hood. There's a flash of that memory, and Kodlak briefly becomes Zusa, reaching for that hood, the young woman . . .

_What_ . . .?

Kodlak's hand reaches the hood and pinches the fabric. "Everyone, please welcome . . ." he pulls the hood down, and – "Libitania Desidenuis."

Slowly, Libby opens her eyes, blinking a few times as she lifts her head to face the other Companions, her chin high.

Silence. Absolute silence and shocked stares.

She _was_ different. By every means there was.

Her face has become more distinct, sharper; her hair has been cut to her shoulders compared to the long braid that always reached down her back. And her eyes – Diamond had always known them as a mixture of green and brown, depending on the season determined which color you'd see more, but now . . . now her eyes are completely green, and the brown has now become a ring of gold around her pupil. That could not have possibly happened just from puberty and development.

Libby's eyelashes bat as she keeps her stare directly on Diamond.

The anger boils.

Before she even realizes it, Diamond springs up from her seat while slamming her palms against the table, rattling its contents. "No!"

Vilkas immediately shoots Diamond a glare assuring that he will teach her how to keep her mouth shut in the future. Torvar grabs for her, tugging her towards her chair, but she shakes him off.

"No?" Kodlak draws out the word with deliberate intent, Libby looking over to him before turning head back to Diamond, but her eyes scan the entire table. Her face is neutral, even looking bored.

Diamond's voice shakes. "She's not . . . I can't be . . . This is crazy."

"What she _means_," Aela interferes. "is that this is very unexpected, Kodlak."

"Quite," says Skjor, his anger just as rowdy as Diamond's, only he has the control to give it a more professional voice. "What exactly brought up this sudden decision, Kodlak?"

"Last I checked, we had a few empty beds in Jorrvaskr for those with a fire burning in their heart."

"But _her_ fire is plagued by darkness." mumbles Athis. Libby turns her head to him and gives him a feline grin. Even with his grey-toned skin, Diamond can see him turn pale.

"Apologies, Master, but you're not truly considering accepting her." Vilkas says.

"Not after everything she's done." Skjor bites, glaring at Libby as if he can set her on fire.

"Sometimes the famous come to us. It makes no difference. I understand that Libitania is like wildfire - deadly and uncontrollable." Libby gives a soft, feminine chuckle. "But perhaps, we can use that fire to our advantage. Forge her heart."

_This can't be happening_. Diamond doesn't stop staring at Libby. _What has she done to him_?_ Blackmail, bribe_?

"But what will everyone in Whiterun, in _Skyrim_, think of us knowing we took in an assassin?" Farkas says.

"She won't be joining us as Libitania Desidenuis. She will be joining under an alias." Kodlak continues.

"Why?" asks Vilkas.

"Because what would people think if they found out I was giving up my _extravagant_ lifestyle of gold and daggers for the means of a _pathetic_ warrior guild." Libby purrs, her voice is so soft and feminine but laced with defiance and challenge.

Many of the Companions put their hands to their weapons, some of them slowly rising form their seats. They snarl at Libby until Kodlak lowers them with his hands up palm forward, as if such a motion somehow holds the power to still the room.

"Now, now." he partially turns to Libby, the notion alone nearly making everyone reboot up from their seats. "Miss Desidenuis, I ask that you treat our organization with the respect it holds."

"You'll get my respect when you _earn_ it, Harbinger." Libby says, but this time, when directed at Kodlak, her voice isn't as sharp. Good. A least she has enough sense on when to be respectful. "The way I see it, your faction isn't that different from the Thieves Guild."

"How dare you –!" Aela begins to rant.

Libby holds up her hand, as if silencing her like a noble would a peasant. Aela nearly leaps across the table. "You simply do jobs that supply the most coin. I fail to see the difference between such matters."

"_Enough_." Kodlak snaps, snapping his head towards Aela.

"The difference is that we still hold honor!" Aela growls as she shoots to her feet.

And Libby laughs, shaking her head. "Says the words of a misguided _mercenary_."

Skjor immediately grabs Aela's arm as she continues to snarl at Libby, animal enough that Diamond could've sworn she saw Aela's teeth curl into the fanged canines of her lycanthropic form.

"I said _enough_."

If Aela takes one step towards Libby, draws her dagger a fraction of an inch, that concealed dagger in Libby's sleeve will find itself a new home in Aela's neck.

Kodlak moves fist, grabbing Aela's chin in one hand, forcing the huntress to look at him. "Check yourself, or I'll do it for you, girl." He murmurs. "You're a fool picking a fight with her tonight."

Eyes are wide, and Aela suddenly looks like a young child being lectured by her parents the way her eyes soften in hurt. Her mouth slightly agape in surprise, and everyone watches them with bated breath. How could Kodlak say that . . .?

Libby bites down her reply. She can handle Aela today – or any other day, for that matter. If it comes down to a fight, she'd win – she would always beats Aela.

But Aela releases the hilt of her dagger. After a moment, Kodlak removes his grip on Aela's face, and steps away. He walks back over to Libby – who still has barely moved an inch – and stands at the side of her chair. "Now for the matters of your alias, Libitania."

"Yes, now who, exactly, am I to be, if not a ruthless killer?" Libby says coyly. A concealed edge lingers beneath her voice.

"To everyone in Whiterun and Skyrim, your name is Lilian Camobrook. Your mother is dead and your father is a wealthy merchant from Cyrodiil. You are the sole heir to his fortune. However, you have a dark secret: you spend your nights as a jewel thief. I met you this summer after you tried to rob me while I was vacationing in Cyrodiil, and I saw your potential then. But your father discovered your nightly fun, and removed you from the lure of the city to a town near Karthwasten. With the vacancy in Jorrvaskr, I traveled to find you, and brought you here as a new recruit. You can fill in the gaps yourself."

Libby raises her brows. "Really? A _jewel_ thief?"

Farkas snorts, but Kodlak goes on. "It's rather charming, don't you think?" When he doesn't respond, he claps his hands together. "Alright, I think that covers things for today. We shall resume the day as normal and –"

Diamond finally snaps from her still trance of listening and blinks, shaking her head. "Wait, Kodlak, are you serious?!"

Heads turn to her and despite the warmth flooding her cheeks, Diamond stares only at her Harbinger and Libby.

"Kodlak, this is folly! You can't just pluck her off the streets and let her in; not after everything she's done to you, to the Companions! Kodlak, please, don't do this. She has done _horrible_ things . . . s-she has killed people!"

"So have you, Diamond." Vilkas suddenly chimes in. Diamond snaps her head towards him, betrayal coursing through her and hurt flooding into her eyes.

When she looks back at Libby, she finds the assassin . . . smirking. The right corner of her mouth, turned upwards and a brow raised in victory; as if to say: _I already have them on my side_.

Libby . . . is _smirking_ . . .?!

The anger snaps. Snaps so loudly that Diamond is surprised that no one else had heard it.

_Gods damn it all to Hell_!

Before she realizes what she is doing, her mouth contorts into a viscous snarl and she is already reaching over her back to grab her Warhammer. Dishes and goblets clink and crash to the floor in diamond-shaped shards, and food soils her feet as Diamond has hurled herself atop the table, ready to make her way across the length and smash the head of her warhammer into Libby's smirking face – until someone wraps their arms around her waist and holds her back.

Diamond immediately thrashes against the arms, beating her fists against it, still careful of her Warhammer swinging with her hands.

The smell of ale and mead hits her before he speaks. "Alright Diamond, how about we step outside." Torvar grunts as he lugs her off the table. Diamond thrashes against him, keeping her gaze on Libby – who is still smirking victorious – as she screams and hollers at Torvar to release her and to let her get Libby. But all he replies with is: "H-Hey, I think I smell the honey of Meadery. Why don't we head _outside_ and see what they're serving?"

More dishes and food and wine bottles go flying as Diamond's feet kick viciously as she's lugged off the table and Torvar drags her towards the backdoor of Jorrvaskr. His arms crush her waist, but Diamond barely feels the pain as she continues to thrash, still screaming profanities at Libby as Torvar shoves the door open with his shoulder and hauls her ass outside to the sparring courtyard.

Shutting the door behind him with his foot, he releases Diamond; or more rather pushes her forward to prevent her from whirling around and barging back inside.

The moment Torvar releases her, Diamond's breathing is quick and she huffs as she grips her Warhammer and hurls it down onto one of the small tables on the dais. The piece of furniture shatters into small planks of wood. Diamond then moves on to the chair sitting right next to it, shattering it into splinters, and then it's the other chair, and then it's the table, and then it's another chair and another table.

Torvar simply leans against one of the wooden pillars of the pergola, watching the young Companion destroy everything. He catches an apple that happens to fly up towards him as Diamond destroys a bowl of fruit. Catching it with one hand, he polishes it on his vambrace before taking a bite.

Diamond destroys the furniture all the way until she reaches the actual practice dummies at the very back of the courtyard. Profanities that would insult the Divines themselves fly from her mouth, screaming loud and echoing across the perimeter of Jorrvaskr.

Even with that, Diamond keeps hacking and chopping away at the dummies until they are nothing more than ripped and tattered piles of hay. Still does Diamond continue to chop until she creates an indentation in the stone and the vibrations of her hammer hitting the ground makes her grip loosen.

The head of the hammer drops to the ground and Diamond stays hunched over, heaving as if she had just done a full sprint around Whiterun Hold. Torvar still leans against the wooden pillar, finishing his apple.

After tossing the core into the nearby bushes, he asks. "Feel better?"

Diamond glares at him from over her shoulder, but doesn't have the energy to give a snippy remark. Instead, she stands tall, leaning her head back and letting the sun warm her face. Taking a few deep breaths and despite the ache in her arms, she slings her Warhammer back its sheath. When she turns, her own eyes widen at the sight of the glass and smashed fruit and splintered wood that scatters the dais of the backyard.

She merely looks to Torvar, cleaning his nails with the tip of his dagger. She sighs and approaches him, carefully navigating up the two steps to avoid bits of glass and splinters. "How could he do that?" Diamond speaks, her voice pitched from her raw throat. "After everything she's done."

"Diamond, it's his decision. He's the Harbinger." Torvar says with boredom.

"She had to have bribed him, somehow." Diamond counters.

"No."

"You saw the injuries on him, Torvar! Who else could have done that to him but her! She's lucky no one skinned her alive the moment he pulled of her hood. How? _How_?!" Diamond raises her arms in the air as if asking the Divines themselves as to how this could have happened? "She had to have tortured him, blackmailed him or something –!"

"Diamond!" Torvar barks, clapping his hands on her shoulders. "Kodlak is not being bribed, he is not being hypnotized, he is not being crazy. This is his decision, and his reasons why are his own, and we are to respect that – not matter how much we may all disagree." He mumbles at the end.

"This is folly! This is delirious! He knows what that _gods-damned_ woman has done to me! She has destroyed _everything_ I loved; everything that I _was_!" Diamond hollers. "Why would he just bring her here?! To the one place that I have finally called home! When she was hired by someone to _kill_ him?!"

Diamond begins to pace back and forth, scouring the dais for something else she can smash. She grinds her teeth and resorts to biting on her gloved hand.

"Just watch, she's going to ruin this too. She's going to kill him and then I will have no one, just like before." Diamond starts to babble. "I will have _nothing_, absolutely _nothing_, left in Skryim. If you thought I was in bad shape when he brought me here before, oh –" she manically giggles. "– it will be worse if that bitch does something to him."

"Diamond –"

"She might even try to kill him tonight. I'll need to be up all night, check every shadow –" her steps quicken as she continues to pace in the tarnished space.

"Diamond."

"It'll be tricky, I've got to make sure that she doesn't escape before I even find Kodlak –"

"_Diamond_!" Torvar once again grasps her shoulders to stop her pacing and tugs her close. "Look, I know you're worried and trying to help – in your own paranoid way – but you _really_ need to get a grip. You're already unraveling."

After a moment of silence, Diamond's eyes calm and her shoulders droop. She sighs as she rubs her hands on her face. She runs her fingers through her hair, inhaling and slowly exhaling. "Okay, okay." She sighs. "Look, I just don't trust her."

"No one does. They're going to be watching her and Kodlak just as much as you will." Torvar insists.

"How can you be so calm after what Kodlak had just said? He let an _assassin_ into our guild." Diamond says, trying to keep her tone calm. "And already people are defending her against me! She always does this!"

"Look, people are only following Kodlak's lead because he is the Harbinger, and they are forced to respect his decision, even if we might not all agree."

"Kodlak always said that he is no one's master, no one's leader. I feel like if we're all against it, he should respect _that_."

"Diamond," Torvar sighs. "You're missing the point."

"And what is that?"

"He's trying to help her, Diamond."

It takes a moment for the words to sink in. Diamond tilts her head back and laughs. She cackles loud enough that a couple guards turn their heads. She turns to Torvar. "You think Kodlak is trying to _help_ her?" Torvar simply stares at her with damning annoyance. "There is _no_ helping that woman, Torvar. None! She has been abandoned by the gods and forever condemned of the Daedra."

"But even you can see how . . . there's just something, off about her."

"Probably in her sanity."

"But you didn't deny it." Torvar retorts.

"Of course I won't deny that there's something wrong with her! She betrayed me and lied to me! About everything! I don't even think our friendship was ever real!" Diamond argues.

"Diamond." Torvar says, warning her to lower her voice.

Sighing, Diamond runs her fingers through her hair again. "I just . . . I don't trust her, I don't like her, I don't want to even speak to her or _see_ her –!"

Diamond nearly wants to rip out her hair.

"What does he see in her anyway?"

Torvar is so silent that Diamond worries he left, but when she turns to face him, he is simply staring at her with sad eyes.

"What?"

Torvar sounds a thousand years old when he speaks. "He sees what you've lost sight of."

Too stunned to answer back, Diamond simply stands there with her mouth agape as Torvar sighs and turns before walking back in to Jorrvaskr.

Alone outside, Diamond is still shocked as she rakes through the meaning of Torvar's words. He probably had too much mead. But he was so serious, for once.

_Gods damn it all_!

Diamond just feels like banging her head against the wall. Libby is going to ruin everything. Diamond knows she will. She'll have to keep an eye on her while watching out for Kodlak as well. Libby is going to destroy her life and her home once again.

_He sees what you've lost sight of_.

Whatever Libby and Diamond had, if they had anything at all, it is over. And Diamond knows Libby is going to try and carry out her contract to kill Kodlak.

But this time, Diamond is ready. Ready to protect this family. She's worked too hard to get a family again, and she won't lose it now. And this time, she won't hesitate.

It doesn't matter what Torvar thinks, or what Kodlak thinks he's trying to do. Libby is now evil, and rude and selfish and a liar –

The back door to Jorrvaskr opens and Ria's head pops out. "Diamond, we need to retire for the night –"

Her eyes widen when she sees the desecration of the entire deck.

"Just leave it, leave it alone." Diamond says as she gives a nonchalant wave towards the mess. She doesn't say a word as she passes by the Companion and into Jorrvaskr once again.

Inside, things seem normal, Kodlak and Libby are gone as well as a few other memebers. Aela and Skjor are over in their own corner talking, Athis and Torvar seated at the table.

Libby –

Diamond quickens her steps, trying to walk slowly to retain as much of her dignity from before. She makes her way down towards the living quarters and stops dead in the threshold when she finds the assassin half-naked and standing over Diamond's – unofficial – bed. Her shirt is off revealing the thing white band that covers her breasts and . . . gods . . . Three enormous lines run down her back. The way they look slightly diagonal and the way the skin rises, Diamond knew they are whipping lashes.

Suddenly Libby speaks, without even having to turn around. "If you're going to stand there and gawk then at least have the courtesy of letting me get my shirt on."

Diamond doesn't say anything, only widening her eyes when Libby turns to her. She gives Diamond a feline grin. "I didn't expect the rooms to be so . . . crowded. I figured your faction would at least have the decentcy to divide the rooms by gender."

Grinding her teeth, Diamond lets her hand drift to the hilt of her dagger as Libby shrugs on an extravagant tunic; a deep blue one with silver beading along the hemline. A little flashy, for the Companions.

There's no way Diamond can share a room with her –

"Oh don't worry. There's no way I'm staying _here_." Libby continues, not caring of Diamond's lack of response. "I can only take so much of sweaty bodies and the stench of metal and mead. I'll be living at my mansion for most of the time. That way I still have contact with a _civilized_ group of citizens."

Diamond's fingers wrap around the hilt. One fling, and Libby can be dead. Or maybe she'll block it and stab Diamond before Diamond can even draw her blade a quarter of an inch.

"But unfortunately my mansion is under renovations, and so I'm afraid this, pelt pile, will have to do. But really you'd think you would have better beds. I didn't know that you sleep with the same prey you kill. Even the Bannered Mare has _actual_ sheets."

One flick of the wrist . . .

"I took the bed in the corner, I saw a few of your things, but Farkas said to pick a bed and fall in it when tired." Libby turns and starts to gather the few tunics Diamond had, all tossed sloppily onto the chair located next to the wardrobe she shares with Ria. Libby slowly walks over to Diamond. She stops dangerously close. "So, I pick this one." Libby shoves Diamond's shirts and pants into her arms. "I knew you wouldn't mind." She says, giving Diamond the brightest smile, laced with taunt. A challenge.

Diamond is shaking from rage.

Libby sighs and gives aloud sniff. "Mm, I'm hungry after that wonderful meet-and-greet. I think I'll get some mead." Libby brushes past Diamond. "Come join me, Shield-Sister."

And with that, Libby walks away and Diamond just stares ahead, trying her best to control her rage as she hears the doors to the living quarters close.

_SCREW THIS_!

That night, while Libby took her place in the sleeping quarters, Diamond had grabbed a couple pelts and blankets and posted herself outside of Kodlak's sleeping room. She tried going to him and to Aela, and Skjor and the twins, insisting that she is _not_, under _any_ circumstances sleep in the same room with Libby. But they all denied her, or brushed her off.

She preferred sleeping on the floor anyway. It was so much more comfy. Great for her back too; but the glowing sconces over Kodlak's desk _did_ make it a little difficult to fall asleep, and the pillow she crafted out of deer and wolf pelts _does_ feel a little flat.

But it still beats sleeping in the same room with Libby.

Just as Diamond is about to fall asleep, the doors to Kodlak's bedroom open and Diamond ends up rolling a couple before bumping into a pair of armored boots. She ends up on her back and staring at Kodlak's amused, but exhausted face. She tries to think of an explanation, but Kodlak speaks before she can think of a valid answer.

"You always were a stubborn one. Well, come in. come." He ushers her up. Diamond shakes her head, but Kodlak speaks over her. "I insist, I'm not that tired anyway. I have some research that needs to be done, anyway."

Without waiting for her to answer, he walks out, relights one of the sconces over his desk and sits down.

Diamond stands, still wrapped in her pelt blankets. After a couple heartbeats, she sighs through her nose.

She crawls into the bed, sighing as she feels the plushness of the mattress beneath her. Resting her head on the pillow, Diamond turns on her side so she can see Kodlak, hunched over at his desk, scribbling something with a feather pen.

After a few blinks of her eyes, she is fast asleep.


	15. Chapter 14

Libby gapes at the ground. She knew these sharp, gray rocks – knew how they crunched beneath her feet, how they smelled after the rain, how they could so easily cut into her skin when she was thrown down. The rocks stretch for miles, rising into jagged, fang-like mountains that pierce the cloudy sky. In the frigid wind, she has little clothing to protect him from its stinging gusts. As she touches the dirty rags, her stomach rises in his throat. What had happened?

She pivots, shackles clanking, and takes in the desolate waste of Cidhna Mine.

She had failed, failed and been sent back here. There is no chance of escape. She had tasted freedom, come so close to it, and now –

"Joric!" Libby cries. "_Joric_!"

Libby spins around, shouting to the grey sky. It replies with a flicker of lightening. And then, everything grows darker, and in the blackness, Joric's outline forms.

"_You failed, Libitania_." The apparition says. His eyes are angry and damning with hatred. "_I tried. But you failed me. So suffer_!"

Then his apparition fades, and lighting slices across the sky.

Libby whirls, her breathing fast and tears streaming down her face. She screams as excruciating pain shoots down her back, barely heralded by the crack of the whip. She falls onto the ground, stone slicing into her raw knees.

"_Get on your feet_." Someone barks.

Tears sting her eyes, and the whip creaks as it rises again. She would be killed this time. She will die from the pain of it.

The whip falls, slicing into bone, reverberating through her body, making everything collapse and explode in agony, shifting her body into a graveyard, a dead –

Libby's eyes fly open. She pants.

Her body is moistened with sweat as her senses activate one by one and she feels the pelt of an animal on her legs. She quickly kicks them off, the chilled air sending goose bumps along her calves.

Where is she?

She stares at the ceiling until her head settles, then looks around the room, running a hand through her hair. Whiterun. Whiterun – that's where she is. In Jorrvaskr, the home of the Companions.

She is sweating, and the sweat on her back feels uncomfortably like blood. She feels dizzy, nauseated, too small and too large all at once. Though there are no windows in the sleeping quarters, an odd draft from somewhere in his room kisses her face, smelling strangely of roses.

Over in the corner, there's a small sound that makes her flinch. Libby turns to find Torvar buckling on his leather braces. He turns to her and smiles, but it kind of falters. No doubt Libby is gravely pale.

"Good to see you're up." He says. "You were mumbling in your sleep." Torvar gives Libby a shaky smile. "I thought you were saying something, but I couldn't make out any words. N-Not that I was trying to listen of course. You were just very loud –"

Libby reaches around to touch her back, beneath her nightshirt. She can feel the three ridges – and some smaller ones, but nothing, nothing –

"I was being whipped." She shakes her head to remove the memory from her mind. She pushes back the covers. The room is fairly empty, and Libby can only assume that it is morning, and breakfast is served.

Without paying much more attention to Torvar, she gets up from her bed and grips the edge, letting her head settle. She adjusts her drenched nightgown. She reeks of sweat.

She then goes over to her dresser, well aware of her Nightingale uniform safely back in her mansion home in Whiterun, along with her Ebony Mail.

Given she's already exposed herself with the armor as Libitania Desidenuis, she needs to substitute for it now that she has to bear the name _Lilian Camobrook_. Thankfully she still has the armor that the Crown Prince of Morthal had specially made for her – a gift for her first step of success of her contract.

Putting the suit on, she sighs as it still makes her feel like an assassin, instead of some milk-drinker of the Companions. She practices once again sheathing and unsheathing the hidden blades on the wrists, making sure her reach for the other blades hidden along her ribs is quick and efficient, strapping her quiver of ebony arrows to her back with her bow, and then strapping her ebony swords to her waist. She finishes her look with an obsidian black cape she secures around her shoulders.

She smooths her hair, combing her fingers through it – all the more glad she decided to cut it shorter. Still, it's growing fast and is already long enough that she has to put it in a small ponytail to keep it out of her face.

Once satisfied, she makes her way out of the sleeping quarters and through the double doors to the upper floor.

Though she tries to forget it, the sound of the whip still snaps in her ears.

* * *

In the dining hall of Jorrvaskr, Diamond has finished coming through her hair as she takes her seat at the table, next to Torvar, who is already helping himself to a large platter of sweet rolls.

Dressed in her branded iron armor, she carefully leans her glass warhammer against the table. "Good morning, Diamond." Torvar says.

"Morning." Her voice is low and smooth, but it's because she still isn't in the best mood since the . . . exchange between her and Libby last night.

At the sound of doors opening, Diamond's head instantly turns to the direction of the living quarters, her blood already boiling at the sight of Libby strolling up the steps. She is donned in an outfit of darkness, the gold embroidery of her cloak the only thing that stands out, glinting in the light leaking in through the roof.

Diamond won't deny, Libby does look both intimidating and beautiful at the same time. Damn that bitch. Her hood is down, her hair pulled back in a small ponytail. Her face though is still as blank as a canvas, ready to be pained. Her ink – blood.

She doesn't pay any heed to Diamond, doesn't even bother to look in her direction as she takes the next available seat and begins to fill her plate with food. Diamond doesn't know if she should be furious or jubilant. At this point, she can't even stand to be in the same room as Libby anymore.

But she won't dare leave. If anyone should leave, it can and will be Libby. This is Diamond's home now, and she will not give it up.

The doors sound again and this time Farkas and Vilkas come up the steps, Aela not too far behind. Diamond watches, trying her best to look occupied with her filled plate of pancakes, sausage, waffles and sweet rolls as she watches Aela and Vilkas take one look at Libby and resort to eating on the other side of the table. Diamond smiles.

But then she watches as Farkas pulls out the chair next to Libby, who has poured herself a cup of tea by now, and actually sits down next to her! Diamond nearly drops her silverware, as does Vilkas. Even from across the table, Diamond can see his eyes widen and an expression of exasperation contort his face.

Farkas doesn't seem to notice, or care, as he sighs and pulls forth a plate, filling it with bacon and sausage and bread and wine and smoked salmon. He turns to Libby, who looks rather – pink, in her cheeks. "You look pale." He says to the assassin.

Libby turns her head, her cup of tea pressed to her lips in mid-sip. She lowers her cup to its platter and licks her lips. "When dressing yourself from head to toe, it deters one's chance to bath in the warm sun." she replies.

"Hmm," Farkas says, a small smile on his lips. "Well, all of that lack of warmth must've frozen your heart."

There's a stiffness in the air as Libby turns her head to the Companion, but she has a faint amused smile. "I'd watch your tongue, Companion; as I won't be afraid to cut it out."

"_If_ you think you can handle me." Farkas retorts.

"I can gut you in an instant before you can get one swing of that broad sword." Libby continues as she pours another spoonful of honey into her tea.

"Oh really?" Farkas turns slightly towards her and Libby merely smiles as she takes another sip. Her form mimicking that of a royal.

"Men of your size aren't very fast, or very nimble. You could knock me out with once punch, probably, but you'd have to be swift enough to catch me." Libby gives Farkas a quick glance, daring him to challenge her claim, but the dirtied-face Companion answers.

"Good. I thought so. And what of the others? Any potential rivals?"

"You brother seems like he would be fun to amuse." Libby admits. "Everyone else looks pathetic." she states.

Farkas' smile grows. "Quite the firebrand, aren't you? Glad to find that meeting us hasn't damaged that swagger of yours."

"Why would it?" Libby grins deviously. She stabs her fork into another sausage and takes a bite.

As she stirs in more honey into her second cup of tea, Farkas looks up to the assassin's profile. The sun coming in through the windows makes her skin look as smooth as iris. Her jawline is sharp and her eyes seem to glitter. She is so achingly beautiful.

Diamond is bemused when she sees Farkas _chuckle_. And he merely continues eating his meal as if he is _not_ sitting next to an experienced killer! She is surprised that Libby hasn't gutted Farkas already for treating like she _isn't_ Tamriel's most notorious assassin. But instead, she merely sips on her tea and finishes an apple Diamond didn't see her start.

The doors to the sleeping quarters opens for a third time and in walks Kodlak, looking much better than when he did yesterday. The bruising on his neck is already fading and the cuts scabbed over already. He walks with the same demeanor Diamond has always known and come to memorize.

When he comes towards the table, everyone sits up straighter – some smiling as they give him a nod of good morning. He passes by Libby and the assassin doesn't even acknowledge the Harbinger. Merely she continues eating her food and sipping her tea. Though Diamond doesn't fail to notice the raise of Kodlak's eyebrow when he sees Farkas sitting next to Libby.

It's only when he stands in front of the fire pit does Libby lift her head. "Good morning, everyone."

"Good morning, Kodlak." Diamond says, her voice lost in the unison of the Companions.

Kodlak smiles and turns his head to Libby, who still gazes at her plate as if it is far more interesting than the well-respected Harbinger before her. "Libitania, I trust you find your stay adequate?"

Ignorantly, Libby slowly lifts her head to look at Kodlak. She blinks slowly. She looks to Kodlak like a cat would a mouse. And everyone in this room is just waiting for her to pounce. "It was tolerable." She says. "Though don't expect me to get acquainted with it, as my mansion is now finished with its renovations. Just send a courier for me whenever something happens." She says with a wave of her hand.

Kodlak merely nods, his jaw tight. "I'll try and see if I can work something out."

"I _know_ you will." Libby grins coyly.

Kodlak stares at the assassin, who doesn't break the gaze. "Well, it's nice to see our personality is rubbing off on you; as the time has come."

That gets Libby's attention, as she lifts her heads to the Harbinger with an expression of confusion. "What is?"

"Why the test of your arm, of course." Kodlak says with an excited clap of his hands.

Libby's shoulders slouch and she rolls her eyes. "You must be joking." There is no humor in her voice and she doesn't bother to try and hide her annoyance.

"I am not, Libitania." Kodlak shakes his head. "We do this with all of the new initiatives, and you will be treated no more."

Libby snarls, and then Skjor chimes. "Here in the Companions, you have to prove you can hold yourself in battle."

"You dare question my skill?" Libby challenges. She stares Skjor straight in the face, daring him to stand from his seat. "As if humiliating you and your _pathetic_ faction wasn't enough?"

"Libitania," Kodlak interjects. "This is the protocol of our faction, you don't have to like them, but I merely ask that you respect and follow them."

Libby huffs through her nose as she sets down her fork and tucks a few strands of her dark hair behind her ear.

"Vilkas will take you out to the yard to see how you do."

"No, no. Please" Skjor suddenly says. "Allow me."

The Companions stare at Skjor, but he only has his eyes on the assassin, who stares straight back – unafraid, unamused and unflinching.

"Very well," Kodlak says. "Come everyone, let us take to the yard."

"This won't take long." Libby says, her voice low.

Everyone rises from their seat and Libby is the first to head towards the back doors. Even Kodlak stops and lets her go first. She doesn't even give a nod, she merely goes on ahead as if the right is given to her.

"This ought to be good. I've never seen Skjor so fuming. I could see the steam come out of his ears." Torvar chuckles as he rises up from his seat.

Diamond follows him, quiet and keeping her eyes on the doors as she follows the other Companions out. "I just hope he shuts her up." She mumbles to herself.

Outside in the courtyard, Diamond can see the white chalk borderline of the sparring ring, now nearly invisible now. She remembers when she had her first test for the Companions, that line was clear and visible. She had faced against Vilkas for her first fight. To her credit, she held up well against Vilkas, even though her knees had trembled with the effort.

The Companions file out one by one, standing up on the deck, sitting and leaning against the tables that had been quickly replaced after Diamond's . . . exertion of frustration. Athis, Ria and Farkas take up spots closer to the ring, and Diamond joins them making sure to stay hidden enough that Libby can't spot her easily. Even if she can, Diamond truly wants to see Skjor wallop her. He's one of the best warriors of the Companions.

The assassin unclasps her ebony cloak and tosses it onto the back of one of the deck chairs. Skjor gives Libby a snakelike smile, and Vilkas claps him on the back as he enters the chalk-etched circle, drawing his sword.

Out of the corner of Libby's eye, she can see Farkas and Diamond around the circle. She doesn't care. This isn't even about her or their Harbinger anymore. This is about showing these 'warriors of honor' just how pathetic they are. They are no match for her, and she will take down every single one of them to prove it. Screw Joric and his pathetic contract.

Narrowing her eyebrows and scowling at the one-eyed warrior, Libby walks towards the ring.

Skjor raises his sword, spinning it for effect to appear more skilled. Libby almost wanted to roll her eyes. _Please_. "The old man said to have a look at you." He says.

"Remember, just give a few swings so that we can see you're form." Kodlak reminds. Though it sounded more directed towards Skjor than Libby.

"Let's see what you've got."

Libby stalks towards him, keeping her sword sheathed at her side. Skjor's grin widens as he lifts his blade.

"Begin." Kodlak says.

Skjor swings, but Libby strikes, ramming her fist into his arm, sending the blade soaring through the air. In the same breath, her palm hits his left arm, knocking it aside, too. As he staggers back, her leg comes up, and Skjor's eyes bulge as her foot slams into his chest. The kick sends him flying, and his body crunches as it hits the ground and slides out of the ring, instantly eliminating him.

The Companions are utterly silent.

"Mock me again," Libby spits at Skjor. "and I'll do that with my sword the next time." she turns from him, and finds Kodlak's face slack. "Here's a lesson for you, _Harbinger_," Libby says, stalking past him. "Give me _real_ men to fight. Then maybe I'll bother trying."

She strode away, past the grinning Farkas, and when she passes Diamond, she smiles with sweet venom.

Libby grabs her cloak off the back of the chair and leaves the courtyard through the stone pathway that rounds to the front.

Diamond stares after her in shock. Her blood thrums in her ears and her heart is pounding against her ribs. She turns to Skjor, who already has Aela and Vilkas around him helping him up and having a hushed conversation with him. No doubt they're trying to reassure the warrior, but how pathetic that he needs a pep talk. Skjor shrugs them off aggressively and makes his way back inside, not even bothering to pat off the dirt on his uniform.

"Well," Torvar says, stretching and sighing. "That was rather anticlimactic." Diamond stays silent as she continues to stare at the spot where Libby stood, and how she ended a match in a matter of seconds. "But rather surprising at the same time."

The Companion members stays quiet as she stares, and then as if the series of events just hits her like a sack of bricks, Diamond feels her anger boil over; at Skjor for looking like a complete buffoon bastard, at Libby for the way she disrespected Kodlak, and for Farkas for befriending her at breakfast.

Turning sharply on her heels, Diamond grabs her glass warhammer, of which she brought out ready to pommel Libby if she dared to strike Kodlak, and stomps inside. She emerges minutes later with a crumpled piece of paper in her hand, a mission that Aela has been wanting someone to get done, and continues her way up towards the front and out of Whiterun.

* * *

After satisfying herself with humiliating Skjor in front of the Companions, again, Libby had strode out of the courtyard of the Companions and all the way back towards her luxurious mansion in a respectable part of Whiterun. She walked in, called to her servants to prep her a tray of sweets and has spent the rest of her afternoon reading on the balcony outside her study's double mahogany doors.

The study consisted of two levels, one being the living area, then the upper floor housed all of the books and scrolls and papers and documents. And it consisted entirely of polished cherry wood. A gorgeous crystal chandelier hangs at the center of the high ceiling with matching sconces placed around each shelf on both levels. Directly under the chandelier is a mahogany coffee table bordering a pane of glass stacked with more books and a vase of roses set at the center. A grand fireplace – the mantel piece incorporated with stone to accompany the wood – and plush couches and armchairs huddle in front of a long and intricately designed desk where Libby sits to deal with papers and bills. The baluster of the stairs, instead of having simple wooden posts, is replaced with delicate black iron vines and tendrils and curls that gracefully take up the space. The desk is in front of large window crosshatched with X's, and reveals the gorgeous landscape that surrounds the Hold.

Oh how it was so _nice_ to be back in civilization, with her beautiful clothes and shoes and jewels and all of the luxuries she has spent so long without!

She sits in one of the cushioned white wicker chairs with the silver tray of floor set in front of her, and a cup of milk that her one servant girl expertly refills. The fabric of her silk, royal purple robe brushes against the smooth skin of her legs. Libby couldn't stop running her hands over it, reveling in the smoothness her servants so expertly can achieve.

As she turns the page, her ears tend to hone in on the sound of the water that flows from the marble fountain outside in the front yard. It glitters in the sunlight, and ripples inside the polished basin.

At the very top of the fountain, a statue of a voluptuous nude woman looked down on them as citizens pass. She held a swath of fabric that clung to the lower half of her body and appeared to billow out behind her in a suspended arc. Curly-haired cherubs frolicked beneath the basin in a captured moment of abandon. Though the figures might have seemed playful in the daylight, something about the mix of shadows and stark light cast on their small faces through the trees at night made them appear more mischievous than free-spirited, more impish than gleeful. The large swans that reveled with them, rearing back with wings outspread, looked somehow frantic.

Libby tucks strands of her now annoying hair back behind her ear. It's just at the length where her ponytail makes her look too young, and that it's so short that she has to awkwardly pin it back so that it's out of her face. She then hears someone tentatively knock on one of the balcony doors and she turns her head to find one of her servants, a pretty young thing with wine-red hair and red-brown eyes and a sprinkling of freckles across her cheeks and nose. The girl is around eighteen – her birthday coming up actually – and she's holding a small paper-wrapped box with a little elegant looking note tied to a red ribbon.

"For you, Madame." The girl says, her voice soft and shy. She holds the box out to Libby, and the assassin feels a slight bit of amusement, but mostly compassion when she sees the girl trying to keep her hand from shaking.

It's not that Libby is abusive to her servants – _gods_, no – even before she got sent off to Cidhna Mine, she treated her servants with respect, but this girl, her name is Nimpael and she is new . . . and she's a Bosomer. She probably still has a slight fear of Libitania because of her reputation, but Libby would never harm her servants. She has races from all across Tamriel here in her home; most of them were refugees looking for work, however a majority of them were poor souls who had lost their home, their rights and their privileges to Ulfric Stormcloak.

Libby extends out her hand, her polished and uniform nails glinting as she takes the package with a sweet smile. "Thank you, Nimpael." She nods to the elf.

The girl's eyebrows rise, but a smile spreads on her face. She opens her mouth as if to say something, but she quickly claps it shut and bows low. She then slips through the doors back inside, but with a little spring in her step. Libby chuckles to herself as she sets her book aside, and sets the package in her lap.

The box itself is a work of art, inlaid with mother-of-pearl, but she keeps her face blank as she flips open the lid.

An emerald-and-gold brooch flitters in the golden afternoon light. It is stunning, the work of a master craftsman – and she instantly knew what dresses and tunics it would best complement. She plucks the card off the red ribbon and reads the prince's elegant handwriting.

_For you, the first of many. I never thought you could make it as far as joining the Companions. You are full of surprises, Desidenuis. So please enjoy_.

Libby sets the box onto the table and observes the brooch in between her fingers. Everything about it is real, from the gem to the gold band that holds it. It must've cost a fortune. She never asked the Prince Joric to send her anything, she could afford plenty of the luxuries of the royals all by herself with the prosperity of the guild. He's only sending her these gifts to either motivate her to do more, or to make her feel guilty for not doing her contract properly. He sends her all these gifts, and if she were to fail, then not only would she go back to Cidhna Mines, but she'd also have to pay him back for all of the money he wasted _for_ her gifts.

Huffing through her nose, Libby gets up from her seat and walks back inside, and over to her dresser where she opens her jewelry box. She dumps the brooch onto a pile of pearl and gold necklaces as if it's nothing more than a copper coin. Shutting the drawer, Libby disperses of the box into the garbage and returns to her reading as if she never saw it.


	16. Chapter 15

The next morning, Farkas walks into Jorrvaskr's dining room, his jaw fairly sore from the scuffle he had with a local Whiterun citizen. A stream of dried blood is trailing from his nose, his knuckles aching. Aela and Skjor are seated in the far corner of the room, Diamond eating at the table with Torvar, and Vilkas – probably downstairs with Kodlak.

Torvar's head lift up, stopping in mid-chew of eating his grilled slaughterfish, to wave towards Farkas. Diamond's head turns in curiosity, her blonde hair twirling around her head. She smiles and waves too, Farkas returning the gesture. He spits into the fire before taking a seat at the table. He casts his gaze around the room once more, to make sure he didn't miss anyone –

"Seemed like some scuffle, Farkas." Torvar calls from his seat.

"The milk drinker had what was coming to him."

Torvar shrugs his shoulders and takes another bite of the fish. Farkas takes a plate and fills it with large spoonful of potatoes, bread, salmon and deer. Wiping his mouth as best he can, he's about to stab his fork into the venison, when the doors to Jorrvaskr open once again.

And there she is.

It seems like every time she enters the room, heads always turn, as they do now. Dressed in a royal purple tunic with gold embroidery, Libitania enters with a forest green cape with a silver clasp around her shoulders. She's in the middle of putting her hair into a ponytail, Farkas nearly chuckling at the effort as her hair is only to her shoulders. The ponytail would look to short, and thereby making her look – cute.

Her eyes lift while her hands are pulling back her hair, and they find Farkas. He swallows. The emerald green of her iris look as iridescent as the gems they represent, ringed with an exquisite gold.

How is it someone so beautiful can hold such a cruel and dark spirit?

Farkas hears Diamond scoff behind him in disgust. Libitania's steps slow and her eyebrows narrow as she continues to stare at Farkas. The Companion simply gives a half smile and a shrug of the shoulders before he turns his eyes to his meal.

He then sees Libitania's shadow slowly move towards him. Peeking up through his eyelashes, he can see her hands fall to her side, her hair returning to curtain her face. Her steps seem a little more hurried and once he feels her close, Farkas lifts his head once more.

There he finds her standing next to him, the pommel of her ebony sword glinting in the light of the fire.

"What happened?" she asks, her voice laced with curiosity; or could it be – concern?

"I got assigned the duty to rough up a citizen in Whiterun for not contributing to the taxes."

"So you went to bully him?"

"It's not bullying if he deserves it. And paying taxes is mandatory here in Whiterun, as I'm sure you can at least, understand."

"The only thing I understand is how you've lost your ability to think. All of these fights must've beaten your brains out."

Farkas knew eyes were upon them, and Diamond has since grown quiet since Libitania had walked over. The assassin herself has since grown quiet and just stares at the Companion.

Farkas rolls his eyes and groans. "Look, I'm in enough pain as it is. If you're going to ridicule me, then you can just leave. Whether you agree with it or not, that is how things work in the Companions."

A moment of silence. And then, "Has anyone bothered to help patch you up?" Libitania asks.

Farkas looks to the assassin in surprise, his fork nearly slipping out of his grasp. He closes his mouth and clears his throat, embarrassed by his visual giveaway. "No. No, it's nothing."

"It doesn't look like nothing." This time Libitania takes the available seat closest to Farkas, giving him a brief wisp of air permeated with her perfume. By the Nine, she smelled like lavender – his favorite.

He continues eating his meal, adding another forkful of salmon. He runs his fingers through his hair, careful not to get bits of food stuck in his ends. Libitania doesn't say anything, and he briefly considers speaking up about something else, anything else, when the assassin beats him to it.

"Look at me." She says.

Upon reflex, Farkas turns his head and finds those green eyes staring at him. Staring _through_ him, the ring of gold almost looking as alive as the flame in the fire pit. He nearly chokes, clearing his throat and swallowing, and turning away.

"Farkas, look at me." She softly repeats.

Wiping his mouth, but sighing for a decent façade, the Companion looks towards the assassin, feeling rather self-conscious of the smell of his body odor. He must smell no different than a horse's ass.

The assassin lifts her dainty hand and slowly her fingers touch the deep bruise set on Farkas's left temple. The Companion winces, his lips twitching to hiss from the pain. Blinking his eyes, he can only stare at Libitania as her fingers delicately trace down from his temple to his cheekbone. Her touch is so soft. Up this close, her skin is rather pale, her lips full and pink.

"It doesn't look too bad, if you want I can heal it for you." She says, her voice quiet.

Farkas folds in his lips. "Um, I don't think that necessary. Skjor always said that a bruise is a sign to others that you're not afraid to pick a fight."

"But it certainly can't help you with your off days." Libitania says, a small smile on her lips. She tucks Farkas's hair behind his ear. "How on earth are you going to get a woman when you look as purple as a grape?"

"It shows I'm tough."

"It could also mean you're violent."

Farkas rolls his eyes, but the two of them chuckle together. Oh, he can feel everyone's eyes on them now. He can feel their stares burning holes through his armor, through his skin. She doesn't seem to notice, or if she did, she doesn't care. Of course she has every reason not to care. She walks through the streets looking like no more than Death itself.

"You know, I am getting a headache." Farkas then says. Which wasn't a lie, it feels as if someone is taking a hammer to the inside of his skull. "Think you can at least make the throbbing stop?"

"Sure." Libitania replies with a shrug. "Most of my things are at my home. Think you can pull yourself away from you meal long enough?"

"It's a bit of a risk, but I think I can manage."

Libby smiles, a genuine smile; the expression strangely filling Farkas with a kind of satisfaction. "Let me just grab some things from downstairs and I'll meet you by the door."

"Don't try and steal anything now."

Libitania rolls her eyes are they both rise from their seat. "Please, you warriors have nothing of use to me."

While the assassin goes downstairs, Farkas finishes his plate before pushing it towards the inner edge of the table. He wipes his mouth and heads towards the doors, slinging his broadsword across his back. As he adjusts his gauntlets, without needing to turn around, he rolls his eyes and says, "Aela, don't even start." He warns.

He turns around and finds the huntress with lips pressed into a tight line, shaking her head. Skjor still seated, he's glaring at the Companion.

"Farkas, what are you thinking?!" Aela hisses.

"I'm trying not to think, as it only makes my head pains worse."

"You've never let anyone heal you before, at least willingly. I remember when we had to tie you down to the bed to let Danica look at the wound you got from a bear!" Aela exclaims.

"You're really worried about me being alone with Libitania?"

"You're _okay_ with being in the same room as Libitania?!"

"What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is that you're going to be alone with an assassin, Farkas." Skjor chimes. "Don't forget that – she is an assassin! She's just as likely to stab your throat as she is to spare you a kind word!"

"You don't think I can handle myself around her?" Farkas barks.

Tension fills the air as the reminder of what happened between him and Libitania crawls forward. She absolutely annihilated Skjor in the test of arms, without even drawing her blade. What else could she do so effortlessly?

"Farkas, she was hired to kill us! And for some reason, Kodlak let her in here." Aela continues. "Even if she hasn't killed anyone yet, don't think that none of us are safe!"

The doors open again and up comes the assassin adjusting a belt of daggers around her waist, her hair now up in a small ponytail, little black wisps dangling freely. She shakes her head, flipping her hair out of her face. Her eyes fall upon Aela and Farkas, the Companion shifting his feet as she approaches.

She gives a cold grin. "I'm sorry, did you want me to leave so that you can continue talking about me?" she asks, jerking her thumb over her shoulder.

"I shouldn't be surprised you were spying." Aela snaps.

"With how loud your voices were, I didn't need to. The doors are about as thin as your skulls." Libitania bites back.

Aela snarls, showing her canines and reaching for her dagger. Libitania fists her hands, her arms loose at her sides.

"If your dare hurt Farkas in any way –"

"Oh please, I have nothing to gain from murdering your precious companion." Libby spits.

"Except for coin!"

Despite his better judgement, Farkas takes a step in between the two women.

"Stop it." he says towards Aela. He places a hand on Libitania's shoulder. The assassin looks to his hand and then to him. Farkas forces himself to stare back. "Let's go."

Tightening her lips and sighing through her nose, the assassin nods her head and walks towards the doors. Holding the door open for Farkas after her, the Companion looks over his shoulder and gives the huntress one last glare before shutting the door behind them.

* * *

It took everything Diamond had not to crush her goblet in her hand.

From the moment Libby walked in, she had kept her eyes on the assassin. And her hand was about ready to reach for her warhammer when the assassin casted her gaze around the room.

But then to have her come and sit with Farkas?! And then the two of them – laughing?! Diamond almost wanted to rip her hair our, stab Libby and slap Farkas at the same time! What in the name of the Divines was wrong with him?! He _let_ Libby sit close to him, but then to actually let her _touch_ his face!

She can't deny the suspicious feeling she had in the pit of her stomach, but she can wait to see if it's clarified later on.

Gods, how she wanted to smack Farkas across the head. But instead, she'll simply observe, and then maybe she and Vilkas can have a talk with the Companion member later.

* * *

Seated in a red plush armchair in Libitania's spacious suite of a bedroom, Farkas can't help but feel rather naked without his armor. When he followed the assassin to her home, he had forgotten that it was an enormous mansion set in the Cloud District of Whiterun.

The enormous house is finished to the highest standard, offering five bedroom suites, large living spaces, and unique entertaining areas which are distributed over three levels and accessed by grand beige, tile feature staircases. He entered through a most impressive entrance hall with double height ceiling and dual staircases.

When they entered, the cavernous entrance of the mansion made Farkas's feet echo almost too loudly. In between the two staircases was a small hallway that led to one of the living rooms and the study.

Libitania made him remove his shoes when they entered then later made him remove his armor in claim that she needed better access to his face, the armor being too clunky.

She has since disappeared into her bath chamber, and has been gone for a handful of minutes. Leaving Farkas dressed in an outfit of exquisite clothing – soft slippers, a long-sleeved tunic of grey and black trousers, he only has the crackling fire for his company, safe for a couple servant girls who come in and out.

Looking around, he gets up from his seat and helps himself to a tour of her rooms. And gods, her room was _huge_! How could this all fit inside the foundation of the home?

Done in the colors of Whiterun, Libitania's room consists of the main chamber, a music room, and then the bathing room blocked off by a door near the very back. The ceiling is high with golden details intricately bordering around the room and morphing into a mosaic at the center. Two chandeliers hang above, their decorative crystals gleaming like diamonds, and her walls are actually covered with ornate stencils of gold. The floor is mostly covered with large, beige rugs under the sets of furniture she has. A large mahogany desk is near the back by the three floor-to-ceiling windows, now blocked with golden draperies.

Her bed is pushed against the right wall with an elegant bed canopy and its curtains pushed back. It's covered with the plushiest pillows Farkas has seen. Her four-post bed is decorated with a rather old and faded crimson duvet.

Directly across the bed on the other wall is a wooden fireplace with a large oil painting of set atop the mantel, then an antique clock with an impish little angel leaning on it, looking up into nothing. Two end tables flank the fireplace, and then a couch, two armchairs and a glass coffee table surround the front. Behind them, a little divan with a warm flannel blanket. She only has one small bookcase, filled and neatly arranged.

It's the picturesque of elegance, but gives off a warm, home-like feeling to it.

Farkas looks all around, taking in the little things that make this Libitania's room; like the desk has papers on it, a couple pens scattered and the candle flame flickering; the fireplace is crackling softly with a book set open on the glass table, a bookmark set from where she left off; little glass figurines set on either side of the clock on the fireplace; a couple more books on the back desk are stacked next to a half-filled out sheet of paper, a pen still in the ink well.

If it weren't for the fact of who she was, he would claim the home was normal.

A door opens and outsteps the assassin, a bowl and pitcher in her hands. When she discovers Farkas touring, she simply gives a half-smile and goes over to the desk, setting down the items. "I hope the décor is to your liking."

The Companion smiles as he follows. "I'm not one to care about appearances."

"That's obvious," she mumbles, a small chuckle making her shoulders shake.

He would've protested, but seeing her so, comfortable – he didn't want to ruin it. She takes some things out of the wooden bowl – a small tin and a couple bandages along with a small vial.

"Here, take a seat." She pulls out the chair to the desk for him and then an upholstered footrest for her. Farkas does as he's told, watching as the assassin proceeds to pour some steaming water into the bowl. She dips the rag into the bowl, wringing it out.

While he _should_ know better, while he _should_ be more of a decent man, his eyes trail up and down her body. She has wonderful, filling curves; her muscles toned while still keeping a feminine silhouette. Her bum perfectly shaped as well as her breasts –

Feeling his eyes on her, she turns her head and frowns. "What?" Farkas asks.

Libitania shakes her head. "I'm just thinking about all of the time I'll have to waste washing those clothes once you're finished with them."

The Companion grins. "Well, had I known I'd be in this kind of place, I guess I would've showered."

"What do you mean, 'you guess'?"

"I'm just going to get dirty again anyway. With all of the fights I endure and the stress brought on by the whelps. I never have time to shower."

"You always have time to smell nice, Farkas." The assassin smiles.

Wringing out the rag once more, she wraps one corner around her finger and sits on the footrest. Something tightens in his chest. That's the first time she's addressed him by his name. Why does that make him feel – good? He can only fidget with his knuckles as the assassin pulls the footrest closer.

With a touch as gentle as a moth, she takes his chin and angles his head towards the light. She starts to pat at the bruise on his temple, the warmth of the rag accompanied by the pain causes the Companion to hiss.

"Sorry." She says. Keeping her touch gentle, her pats turn into wipes and as she traces the area down to his cheekbone, Farkas can see the rag turning dirty as she switches out to a different corner.

"It's okay." He grunts back.

She continues to pat and gently wipe the lip until the dirt was clear. She then pulls out her tin of disinfecting salve, dipping her fingers in it. She begins to apply the salve, patting his lip. His lips were surprisingly soft. They briefly fold in, Libitania clicking her tongue. "Try not to move."

Farkas sighs through his nose, deciding the breath of his nose was better than having it come out of his mouth. "So, this is the life of an assassin, huh?"

"Or talk," Libitania adds, a small smile on her own lips. "but yes, it is. Impressed?"

"It'd be a lie if I said it wasn't. Too bad your means of achieving it weren't as impressive."

Her fingers still in her tin of salve, Libitania sticks out her tongue. "You don't think being the world's greatest assassin is impressive?"

"You sure seem awfully proud of your, occupation. You're a criminal."

Libitania scoots the footrest back and rises. "And a damn good one, too."

"It's also the reason why you ended up in Cidhna Mine." Farkas says. When he sees her stiffen, he nearly regrets the words. Libitania wipes her fingers on a different section of the rag and clasps the tin shut. Farkas is about to apologize when she speaks.

"That wasn't the reason why." She mumbles softly, gathering the supplies.

Farkas detected the anger in her voice, and realizing he is treading on thin ice, he debates on going back, or going farther out. He then asks, "Then what is? If not for your name and title, what?"

Libitania is rigid for a moment, and then pain and anger tone her voice as she says, "I guess you could say I was betrayed. And foolish enough to get my ass captured."

"What do you mean, 'you guess?" Farkas asks, a bit of humor between the two as he repeats Libitania's very same words. He rises from his seat and approaches the assassin. He comes within a foot of her, her lavender smell reaching his nose again.

Even if he didn't understand, he just wanted to know what had happened. If it wasn't her actually getting captured by royal guards that got her sent to mines, then what was? He sees her shoulders relax. "I had paid my debt to her, but apparently, she doesn't like to share her belongings."

Quickly does she then pack her things and whirl around and head on a straight path back towards the bathroom, not even looking back at Farkas.

The Companion watches as she shuts the door and the room is silent safe for the crackling of the fire. Immediately when Libitania said _she_, he knew whom she meant. Zusa Phoenix, Queen of the Faceless Assassins. She had almost said the words in frantic tone, as if eager to get them out before someone plunged a dagger down her throat. That and she probably wanted to say it before she had second-thoughts.

She probably didn't want to tell him something so personal, but somehow, she did. He slowly pieces it together, and fists his hands at his sides. Apparently, Libitania had some debt owed to Zusa, and even when she had paid it off, but it would seem Zusa hated her for leaving.

And so in spite, she sent Libitania out to Cidhna Mines, all because she wanted to leave.

Queen of the Assassins, more like Queen of the Bitches. It might just be his all-around hatred towards Zusa, but he actually felt pity on the assassin, though perhaps it's best he doesn't show it, or he will end up at the bottom of the White River.

When the doors opens again, Farkas hurries over to his armor, making to look like he spent his time putting it back on. Libitania emerges again, wiping her hands with another clean rag. Farkas pulls on his gauntlets and flexes his fingers. He looks up and so does the assassin – gods, her eyes are gorgeous.

She quickly averts them, something seemingly out of character. Is she embarrassed? Either way, it's a silent dismissal. "Thanks for the first-aid." He says.

The assassin nods her head, "Sure."

Oh yes, he has overstepped a boundary. Slinging his broadsword across his back, Farkas adjusts the straps and puts the chair back under the desk. While she doesn't say anything, she follows him out of the room and down into the entrance hall. At least his footsteps are quiet on the tile as they approach the front door.

Stepping into one boot, Farkas is eager to say something, anything to break this tension. "Oh, before I forget, Skjor wants to see you."

This earns him a recognizable enough reaction; she rolls her eyes and groans. "For what? He's not being a baby and kicking me out because I beat him, is he?"

Farkas actually chuckles as he steps into his other boot. "No. It has to do with your initiation into The Companions."

"There's more?" Libitania asks irritated.

Farkas manages a smile. "I'm sure it's nothing you can't handle. What happened to that swagger of yours?"

That makes the assassin smile slightly as she lifts her head. "I'm just wondering how many more times I have to embarrass you Companions before you realize my skills, not that I need your clarification."

Farkas smiles, managing a laugh under his breath. Adjusting his boots, the Companion opens the door. He turns over his shoulder and keeps his smile. "Thanks again, Libitania."

Because he wasn't expecting a return, it surprised when she suddenly said, "Libby."

He looks back to her with eyebrows raised. The assassin folds her arms and shrugs her shoulders. "You can call me Libby. Libitania has, too many syllables."

"Alright." His smile widens. "Thanks again, Libby."

With that, the Companion steps over the threshold, shutting the door behind him.

* * *

When Farkas stepped through the doorway, when the door closed behind him, Libby simply stood there, staring at the door's glossy surface.

Shaking her head and releasing a breath, the assassin hurries back up to her room, pressing her cold hands to her red cheeks. Why were they red? All she did was help a Companion. Her heartbeat is fast as she opens her door and practically slamming it behind her. She forgot to tell Farkas to remove the clothes she lent him, but decided against it. It was weird enough she felt red, her embarrassment would've reached new heights if she saw him shirtless.

And then why was she so willing to tell him about her betrayal of the Faceless? Had she been wrong to tell him something so personal? It felt the same as if she would tell Diamond, but she knew she can't; and probably never get the chance to again. That and she's been meaning to give voice to the anguish she had been burying inside herself since Zusa had first sent her to the silver mines. And since Diamond won't listen, Farkas seemed . . . worthy enough. He certainly seemed interested.

It's odd, she thought she had wanted to try and renew her friendship when she first saw Diamond again; finding her in the Companions was a bit of a shock, but she shouldn't have been surprised. She hadn't heard from Diamond in three years, not since it was her fault that Diamond had lost everything.

Libby's chest aches and she even places a hand over her heart. She goes over to the fireplace and sits on the plush couch. A cool breeze wafts in from her open balcony doors, and she cuddles herself into the warm blanket draped over the back of the couch.

It was her fault Diamond had lost everything. She knew it was wrong, it writhed inside her like a living worm, but still she didn't listen. Why? Why would she choose Zusa over Diamond?

No, she knew why, but she was just afraid of the answer.

After finding Diamond in the Companions, Libby thought she could try and . . . well, do something. But their battles got in the way, as well as her main focus on the contract. She was selfish, again; putting her own freedom and needs before her friend. Or, her old friend.

Something deep within Libby's stomach makes her feel sick. Ever since she had donned the Ebony Mail, Libby felt different immediately. Granted she had more power, but her savagery, her bloodlust, it became more dangerous – animalistic. It was almost a bit of a relief when Kodlak had followed her to the abandoned temple and offered her a second chance.

Libby now keeps the chain mail entombed within her wardrobe, smothered between lavish gowns and exquisite tunics. She didn't like the feeling that dwelled within her when she wore it, like a monster waiting in the shadows.

It's odd to describe, but when she wore the mail, she could almost feel herself building up a wall to keep whatever creature was there, out. It was the thing that had been unleashed when she rampaged through Cidhna Mine that fateful day. She could see it behind the invisible wall, pacing back and forth within the darkness. Pieces of the wall slowly crumbling and cracking very time the creature paces. She just knew that if that wall broke, and she let that monster in, there was no going back.

There's a flicker of light across the room, against the wall near her second set of double balcony doors. Turning her head, she waits for it to happen again, and it does. Atop her hutch set next to her desk. Getting up from the bed, keeping the warm blanket around her, the assassin walks over. The blanket dragging behind her, it whispers against the floor, her bare feet padding softly.

As she approaches, her throat tightens as she beholds her father's Nightingale sword. The ebony hilt of the raven with its wings spread winks at her, the blade looking like a gleaming sliver stardust. She had left the blade in her home, not wanting to keep it in the home of warriors that borderline savages.

Brushing her fingers along its hilt, a small seed of longing burrows in her chest. This was her father's blade, but lately she feels unworthy to use it. Her father was a thief, and a master one at that. It almost feels as if she's lost her way. Straying from her father's way and going along with the Faceless. Libby had always owed them, ever since Zusa had found her wandering the woods with a bow, nearly as feral as a wolf.

While she has fainted memories of her father, at the same time, it's like she knew everything about him. That faithful night in the Twilight Sepulcher, when she saw her father's ghost, _felt_ her father for the first time in what was forever – it felt no different than an act of redemption; her father leeching away everything negative, helping her to see the light. But so quickly was it clouded again.

Her father likely never killed anyone, the life of the Thieves Guild prevents it. He probably had the sword for means of defense. Libby never once took it with her while she was on missions for Zusa, the blade is as clean as it was when her father possessed it. Tainting it would be like spitting in her father's face.

Her hand grows colder as she brings her fingers to the blade, sending shivers up her spine. Rubbing her arms in the blanket, Libby returns to her couch, cocooning herself like a caterpillar. As she reaches over to the table to retrieve her book, a small gust of wind wafts through her balcony doors.

It ruffles the pages of her book, tickling her hair, brushing against her cheek like fingers. It carries with it the smell of pine and roses. Libby's eyes water.


	17. Chapter 16

Later that evening, the Companions of Jorrvaskr are gathered around the dining table. Diamond chomps down on a slice of buttered bread while Torvar sips on some mead beside her. She still hasn't been in the best mood, not since she saw Farkas leave with Libby this morning. She felt only a little bit better when Farkas returned, unharmed and healed.

But what surprised her was seeing him dressed in fine clothing. Clothing fit for a high-ranking nobleman, perhaps even a Jarl. It was so counterintuitive with his still slightly dirtied face and his broadsword against his back; still, Diamond was even more surprised how, handsome, it made him look. Diamond never usually paid attention to Farkas' looks, as he was mostly covered by dirt. Dressed back into his armor, he simply chews on his salmon quietly.

Kodlak sits a couple seats down with Skjor and Vilkas, his fatherly smile brightened by the fire as Skjor tells him what seems to be an amusing story. Farkas sits with his brother, seemingly uninterested of the conversation, dressed once again in his armor, poking at a venison.

Things almost seem as normal as they were beforehand, before Libby arrived and brought with her the troubles of the past. Diamond's jaw tightens, squishing the fried vegetables in her mouth.

While some aspects of Libby's mission are still secret, some things are relatively clear: someone hired her to initially eliminate The Companions, which has been set aside since her joining, for now; she seems to be working on her own, as there haven't been any aspects to indicate the Faceless are involved, thank the Divines; and finally that she's having a wonderful time watching Diamond writhing as she struggles to maintain herself. It's been the hardest thing so far to not tear the assassin in half.

Every time she sees Libby walk in, all she wants to do is pommel the bitch. Make her feel the pain that she endured for the last three and a half years after Libby took away _everything_ that she loved. Of course she can't, because of the Companions standards, and Libby knows that. Another thing she can use to dangle in front of Diamond's face.

The blonde-haired Companion takes another sip of her ale, and preps another forkful of salmon.

Then, the doors to the hall open. The assassin walks in, shoulders thrown back in that insufferable way of hers. Dressed in another outfit of exquisite taste, but the same forest green cloak clasped to her shoulders, she coolly takes in the details of the room before stopping a few feet away from the table, near Skjor's seat. Farkas turns to her and gives a welcoming smile.

Diamond is surprised to see her not dressed in her Nightingale uniform, or in the Ebony Mail she flaunted during their first encounter. Oddly, if might've been the lighting, but Diamond could've sworn that Libby looked, normal without the mail on. Her skin was colored more, her eyes didn't look so dead.

Sensing her stare, Skjor turns his head as well, raising his eyebrows in acknowledgement. "Ah, there you are." Skjor says, Libby already looking cautious as his voice sounds more chipper than normal. At least when it's directed towards her. Perhaps he expects her to die; Diamond can only hope.

"You wanted to see me?"

"Yes, I did," Skjor sighs. "Your time, it seems, has come."

"And what is that?"

"Last week we had a scholar come to us claiming he found a fragment of Wuuthrad." Skjor says before taking another sip form his goblet. "The man seemed like a fool to me, but if he's right about this, then our honor as Companions demands we check it out."

"So you're putting honor before common sense?" Libby snaps.

Diamond lowers her fork, her blood easily starting to boil. With her warhammer down in her quarters, a fork or knife can easily suffice. Skjor this time keeps himself calm, despite Diamond seeing his jaw clench.

"Must you always undermine everything we do, assassin?" Vilkas snarls.

"Perhaps if you used common sense, I wouldn't have to. What other evidence do you have to support this claim?" Silence. Rolling her eyes, the assassin's hands drop to her sides and she gives a dramatic sigh. "How do you know this man isn't sending you into a trap?"

"You ever think your job has made you paranoid over the years?" Farkas suddenly chimes. Libby looks to him, quirks and eyebrow and shakes her head.

"There's never anything wrong with being cautious. You might be the "Honorable Companions," – she claws her pointer fingers around the words – "but don't forget that you also have enemies, of all kinds I would assume. That's how I got here."

Diamond momentarily goes rigid as Libby casts her gaze towards her. Did she give away a small hint as to why she was sent here? Someone hired her – that was for sure, but as to who, an enemy was obvious; and yet still, _who_? Diamond's first instinct goes towards the rejects of the group of whom the Companions denied access. But still who could afford enough gold to hire Libby –?

"Look Libitania, this is how we are." Kodlak speaks up. "Now I don't know what's valuable to you in your - occupation, but honor to us is very important."

"There is a fine line between honor and desperation, Harbinger." Libby bites back, but her tone is softer. "Do you not even think of your members' safety?"

Diamond's fingers twitch with anticipation of reaching for the butter knife as her nostrils flare. When will this bitch just shut up?

Kodlak's face hardens. "These people are my family. They have been my family since I myself was a whelp, they've been my family sine I became their guardian, and they will forever be my family when I am riding through the mists of Sovngarde." Kodlak's voice is stern, and he is not shouting but his seriousness almost makes Diamond's heart skip a beat. Slowly, he rises from his seat. "Don't you _dare_ say that I do _not_ care about them."

Unfathomable pleasure fills Diamond as she watches Libby's eyes widen at Kodlak's sudden passion flowing forth in his words. Kodlak almost never raises his voice, but when it comes to terms of him and family . . . it's one of the few subjects that brings out Kodlak's dark side. Still, Libby stupidly doesn't step down. She simply schools her features into neutrality.

"Now the point to all of this, is that this will be your trial." Kodlak sighs as he sits back down. "If you complete this well, you will officially be considered among the Companions."

Libby nods her head, her face struggling between relief or disappointment. Diamond is still watching the assassin so closely that she almost misses Skjor's next words: "Farkas and Diamond will be your Shield-Siblings on this venture."

While Farkas and Libby exchange a somewhat friendly smile, Diamond nearly chokes on her next sip of mead. Spewing the drink everywhere, Ria and Athis squeal in surprise. Diamond is coughing, Torvar immediately at her side smacking her back. Pounding her fist against her chest, Diamond practically hacks up her lung before she relaxes.

"Are you alright, Diamond?" Aela asks.

"Yeah," she wheezes. She turns her attention to Libby. If she dared started laughing or smiling –

Blank. Her face was blank. Even with her years of training among the Dark Brotherhood, Diamond couldn't read Libby's face whatsoever. It didn't show boredom, she wasn't laughing; did she actually feel worried about Diamond? Shaking her head and spitting into the fire, Skjor sighs and returns to Libby.

"Try not to get them killed." he comments.

"I think Farkas will be fine, but I can't be too sure on Diamond." Libby comments, a small smile on her lips. Skjor actually chuckles along, coughing himself to cover it.

But Diamond saw. She almost snarls when she speaks. "Are you saying you're going to _try_ and get me killed?"

"No," Libby shrugs, keeping her tone cool. "But just knowing you, you'll probably kill yourself before I even get the chance to."

In that moment, everyone shifts. Diamond can't stop herself as she shoves Torvar aside, grabbing the first available thing she can use as a weapon, thankfully her hand finds a knife. But before she can even lift her arm, Farkas is there with his meaty hand wrapped around the entirety of her wrist. Libby has her hand wrapped around the hilt of her Nightingale sword strapped at her side, but the palm of Farkas' free hand is facing her, gesturing her to stop. To everyone's surprise, the assassin doesn't move any further.

Kodlak is standing while Skjor and Aela are bent at the knees, ready to launch in what would've been the fight that ripped Jorrvaskr apart.

"Enough." Kodlak barks. Turning his head to face both of the girls. "Competition is a great motivator, but if it's going to be a problem between you two girls –"

"I've had a problem with this _bitch_ for the past three and a half years!" Diamond hollers. "If you make me go with her, I can't guarantee that it won't end in bloodshed."

"If so, I _can_ guarantee that your blood will be staining _my_ blade." Libby challenges. Diamond tries to launch herself forward, but Farkas holds her back, keeping his hand enveloped around her wrist. Diamond tries to yank free, signaling to him that she won't kill Libby, but he only glares at her.

For a moment, hurt pokes at her chest. How could he choose Libby over her? Libby was an assassin for gods' sake!

"I said _enough_." Kodlak says again. He turns to Diamond, his eyes gleaming, but his face still stern. "Diamond, you are going, that is final."

It feels as if her chest compresses. In that moment, her care seems to drop past rock bottom. She wrenches her wrist free and pushes herself back, knocking her chair to the ground. She grabs the warhammer, slinging it across her back. People step out of her way, no one stopping her as she shoves her way through the doors of Jorrvaskr.

Once outside in the fresh air, confident enough that no citizen will stop her, Diamond's eyes begin to water. Everyone was siding with Libby over her, why?! Because she's a whelp? No! That's can't be it. Why was Kodlak making her go with Libby when he knew of the past that the two girls have shared?!

Was he really trying to mend their friendship after what had happened between them? No, Kodlak knows better than to stick his nose in other people's business. Diamond has accompanied Farkas with other whelps when they were being initiated into the Companions, she's even gone alone with them to observe. Kodlak sees this as no other situation, perhaps he thinks Diamond will act mature and put business before grudges.

Sighing to herself, realizing she is now at least fifty feet outside of Whiterun's walls, Diamond continues farther until she reaches an outcropping of rocks gazing up over the mountains. Pulling out her warhammer, Diamond swings and instantly feels it collide with the hard-packed stone. She grins wildly at the pain that shoots up her arms. She swings again and hits another stone. Then another, and then another, and then another.

After about ten minutes of crushing rocks, she leans her warhammer against the remaining rocks, and sits atop the rocks, holding her knees close to her chest. A breeze kicks up, blowing her hair around her head. Her arms are like mush and her hands are throbbing. Blood is smeared across her palm, as she has ripped open her callus.

Fine. She will go with Farkas and Libitania. It'll no doubt be in an underground ruin, and they'll be facing against bandit, if not dragur.

And if Libby dares to try anything, Diamond will rip her apart. And she will enjoy every minute of it.

* * *

All Libby could do while Diamond walked out of the hall was close her eyes and softly sigh through her nose. She wanted to smack herself in the head, but at the same time a part of her felt proud for lashing out at Diamond for what she said.

Libby had known Diamond had despised her since that day all of their secrets spilled out on the Emperor's ship. But to hear her call her a bitch again, even after three whole years being spent in the mines where her mind was filled with screams and blood and horror, it's still the one thing that cuts her deeper than any dagger. It's what brings back the painful memories of seeing Diamond's face when Zusa had revealed Libby to her, seeing everything she had ever known about Diamond, fade into her eyes; fade into something primal and fierce, fueled with unfathomable hatred. Libby had to breathe to keep her watery eyes from spilling over.

She angles her head to the side, faking a cough as she breathes to calm herself. "Why did you do that?" Libby softly asks, thankful her voice is steady.

Farkas looks to her, almost ready to answer, but soon realizes her question wasn't directed at him. He will get his questioning later, but for now, even Libby is curious as to why Kodlak would make such a stupid decision.

"That is my business, Libitania, and mine alone." Kodlak simply sighs, avoiding the assassin's stare.

Despite a small flicker of anger inside of her, Libby keeps her voice calm. "But you saw what transpired, and while I know I didn't make it any better it's clear that –"

"Libitania, the discussion is not up for debate."

It might've been the fatigue she heard in his voice, it might've been the fact that she knew Diamond would despise Kodlak for what he did, but Libby stops prying, slouching her shoulders in defeat.

"Very well, Harbinger." She says, this time, bowing her head. She could feel the eyes on her, raised eyebrows as clear as the midmorning sky. "When are we to depart?" she asks.

"Not for another couple of days; give you some time to gather yourself and prepare some supplies. Besides, there's another matter we must attend to before you three head out."

Libby sighs. "So I assume someone has to go and get Diamond?"

"Nah, let her go. Let her have her tantrum." Farkas dismisses. "She comes back, she always does."

Libby bites her lip and turns to Kodlak. "So what is it that we have to do?"

"Well, I would explain it, but I think it would be better just to surprise you."

"It's never a good idea to surprise an assassin." Libby says, a ghost of a smile on her lips.

"Trust me, Libitania, you'll find this interesting. And you might want to dress differently." Kodlak smiles.

Rolling her eyes and sighing, Libitania puts a hand on her hip. "I'm more of a light armor kind of person. And besides, you and your dirtied armor isn't exactly presentable as well."

"We'll work on that." Kodak chuckles.

"Libby," Farkas says. "I have something for you. I figured since you can't be seen with the Ebony Mail, nor your Nightingale uniform, I thought I would have something crafted for you."

Libby can't stop the surprise on her face as she stares at Farkas, who is still smiling despite the gazes that follow him as he rises from his chair.

"It should be ready by now. I had Eorlund craft it for you." Farkas jerks his chin towards the back doors and Libby follows him as he begins to walk. She casts a glance over her shoulder to find Kodlak with a coy smile, but Vilkas with angered eyes. Farkas holds the door open for her, and Libby can't help but smile as they walk through the threshold.

"So what's the armor for?" Libby asks as she follows Farkas up towards the Skyforge.

"Just a little bit of a thank you for healing me."

Libby smiles, but still rolls her eyes. "It's not like I'm charging you for it, and you don't have to do this."

"What's so bad about me repaying you?"

"Because I'm not _that_ kind of assassin."

"Did I ever say you were?" Farkas grins.

Libby stops and returns her own sly grin. "Well, one day with me and you're already looking for loopholes. There's hope for you yet, Farkas."

Libby claps his shoulder and the two approach Skyforge, finding Eorlund already hard at work. Even with the roar of the billow, he turns his head when Libby and Farkas approach. "Welcome Companions."

"Well, Companion and Assassin." Libby corrects. Eorlund chuckles as he removes a shard from the forge, the tip glowing a bright blazing orange.

"I assume you're here for the armor." He says as he starts to hammer the metal.

"Is it ready?" Farkas asks.

"Yes, just give me a moment."

Libby and Farkas lean against the stones as Eorlund finishes up hammering away at the glowing – what looks like a sword – dips it into the bucket of water where it hisses and steams, then saunters over to the counter and fetches a small pile of folded clothes. When he approaches, Libby gazes at the piece of armor and is surprised.

It looks like it's made of leather, but without the shine. It resembles her armor of the Guild, but with minor detailed changes in that there are less pockets, and there areas of the torso are thicker, most likely with armor pieces to ensure protection over her vital organs.

"Want to try it on?" Eorlund asks.

"Sure. But will it fit? How did you even get my size?" she directs to Farkas.

"I asked Aela for her own measurements." Farkas says, nervously rubbing his neck.

"And she _told_ you that?"

Farkas shrugs. "I guess she thought I was making something for her. I never thought of her to be a lover of gifts and such."

Libby chuckles and takes the armor. Farkas and Eorlund have the courtesy to turn away and she quickly changes. Surprisingly, the armor fits fine. It's skintight, and now that it's actually on, Libby can feel the leather-like material is built around pieces of metal. It's nothing that she's felt before. It feels flexible instead of stiff and it covers her from the neck to ankle. Covering her from neck to toe, the suit has a hood lined along the hemline of the breastplate, simple shoulder pauldrons, vambraces that have slots for slimmer daggers, and even small clasps on the shoulder to hold a cloak.

Libby gives the cue they can look and both the men turn to her. Their eyes widen.

"Wow." Farkas breathes.

"Not a bad fit." Eorlund smiles. He turns and hands Libby a matching pair of boots lined with the fur of deer.

Libby swings her arms experimentally, stretches her legs, crouches and walks around the forge, jogs up and down the stairs and practices her kicks and punches. It has plenty of belts and buckles for countless weapons, and she can even feel some expertly concealed within the uniform. Even someone patting her down would mistake it for ribbing. "This feels, amazing. I didn't know you were such a craftsman, Eorlund."

"I try." The forge master shrugs.

"So, how much is it?" she asks.

Farkas and Eorlund chuckle, Libby's cheeks feeling warm. Farkas smiles. "It's a gift, Libby. You can have it. Besides, it's better suiting than your tunics, extravagant as they may be."

"While I'm all for looking my best, this sounds like something more than a simple fetch and retrieve mission. And if I may ask, who is Wuuthrad?"

"Wuuthrad is the mighty axe wielded by Ysgramor, the legendary leader of the Five Hundred Companions, during the Nordic-Falmer War; which took place across much of Skyrim and Solstheim in the Merethic Era." Eorlund explains. "The weapon was later shattered into fragments, several of which are displayed in the mead hall."

"And your goal is to rebuild this weapon." Eorlund nods. As Libby fiddles with the hood of her new uniform, she turns to Farkas. "So, how long do we have until Diamond gets back?"

The Companion shrugs. "Who knows? She's unpredictable like that. But she's aware of our meeting, so she should be back in a handful of hours."

"Do you mean the meeting outside of our mission?"

Farkas nods. "We're to meet up at Dragonsreach for a council with the Jarl. I wonder if he'll recognize you."

"He shouldn't. I've done well in keeping my identity a secret."

"I can understand. With a face like that, you'd be recognized anywhere."

Libby looks to Farkas, a ghost of a smile on her lips. Farkas' eyebrows rise before he nervously clears his throat. "We're to meet up in the courtyard in a couple of hours. I guess I'll see you there."

As he starts to walk away, Libby stops him by saying, "What if Diamond doesn't come back in time?"

Farkas simply looks over his shoulder and smiles. "She'll come back; she always does."

With that, he leaves the assassin in the shadow of the Skyforge. Libby turns to Eorlund, who has already started the forge and asks, "Mind if I walk around a little bit? To stretch out the uniform?"

Eorlund barely looks over his shoulder as he nods and replies: "Of course."

Libby heads down the stairs and through the front steps of Jorvaskrr. With her hood up, she folded her arms and kept her eyes on the ground. It was a bit chilly, and she only has slight regret she didn't fetch her cloak before leaving. But her mind was racing, and she just needed to be moving. She decides to head for her mansion; it was quite the walk, and she could continue her pacing – if need be – inside.

She couldn't help but think of Farkas' words: She'll come back. She always does.

Libby had always thought of Diamond to be a strong person. But not strong, like an adult. It sounds cruel to say, but with Libby always having to be the responsible one, it's still hard to picture Diamond as an adult now. It's been _three_ _whole_ _years_. Diamond is now nineteen. Still not an adult, but close to it.

Even with the time between them, Libby can still see that faithful day with the clarity of elven eyes. She had lost her friend that day. Diamond's eyes, it was like they had . . . faded. Faded into a pale grey, and her skin whitened as well. Everything about seemed to change until Libby almost didn't recognize her.

In her eyes – it was something primal. Animalistic, and it wouldn't have hesitated to rip Libby apart. And Libby would've let her, if not for her . . . other reasons. Oh how she wanted to speak with Diamond again. She hug her and assure her that everything wasn't as it had seemed. She did betray her, but their friendship, it was real. Even if Libby couldn't make it up to her, even if Diamond wouldn't accept her apology, she just needed Diamond to know that she was sorry. Truly, sincerely and unfathomably sorry.

As she crosses the next bridge, the small ravine running underneath her, the stone walls of her mansion's property come up on her left-hand side. She'll never get the chance to apologize to Diamond. Most likely any method she'll try, Diamond will simply disregard it. Up front, Diamond would sooner rip her to shreds; a letter, Diamond might rip it up and burn it. Libby could go through the other Companions, but they most likely won't help her. And the last thing she wants to explain her situation with Diamond, especially when it seems like no one else knows what is going on. This is their business.

As Libby walks past her black gates, nodding faintly to her guards-for-hire, she tucks her hands under her arms, trying to keep them warm. The fountain in her front yard is flowing as always, the voluptuous statue gazes up towards the sky, holding the sun in her hand. Libby gives it a brief glance, but could feel her eyes watching her.

Once inside, she calls to her servants to prep a desert tray. She would have to see how things would work out, though after her snapping at Diamond in the hall, she'll probably have to wait another three days just for Diamond to tolerate being in the same room with her.

As she goes over to her armoire, she opens the doors and finds her small armory of weapons gleaming in the sunlight. Libby smiles. "Hello old friends."

After loading her belt, despite herself, Libby spends the next two ours reading in her living room while popping several candies into her mouth. Her favorite was the dark chocolate from High Rock. Those Brentons know how to make delicious chocolate; it was almost worth the wait for it to be shipped out to her many houses across Skyrim's holds.

After finishing her third tray of sweets, Libby gathers herself from the comfort of her blanket and heads out towards Jorvaskrr. To accompany her new Companion's armor, she adorned an ebony cloak and filled her belts with weapons from her personal armory, making her armed to the teeth.

She finds the Companions all outside the front of Jorvaskrr, including Diamond. As Libby approaches, she's surprised at how, nice Diamond looks. She had only seen Diamond dressed out of her uniform a handful of times, and every time she did, it made Libby giddy with excitement.

Today, she is dressed in a set armor upgraded from iron to chitin. The Dunmer of Morrowind construct chitin armor out of the shells of native insects layered with resinous glues. Plates of the armor cover her torso, her shoulders and gauntlets reach up to her elbow. Her greaves and poleyns protect her knees and her warhammer is strapped to her back. All layered atop a thick pink tunic and belted at the waist, while to Libby everyone else would look like little bugs, Diamond actually looks beautiful, and powerful.

She's speaking with Torvar, but as Libby approaches, as if she can sense her oncoming, her head turns towards the assassin. Instantly, her eyes narrow and it's almost as if she's struggling to grimace. Libby schools her own features into neutrality, and simply makes a beeline for Farkas, ignoring the glances cast by Vilkas and Aela. Farkas thankfully welcomes her with a small smile, and Libby returns it.

"So," she asks with a sigh. "do we know why we're meeting the Jarl for a council?"

She hadn't given it much thought, but now that she's here, at the base of the steps leading to Dragonsreach, a part of her worries whether or not Jarl Balgruuf will recognize her. That and what he might think of his Companions for letting Skyrim's Assassin join their guild. She's made several breaches past the guards and into the castle before, all through the same balcony doors on the second floor which lead into the Jarl's chambers. Guess it's all just a matter or memory.

"It's probably nothing more than a council meeting. We've been invited to several ones before." Farkas answers.

Libby rolls her eyes. "Oh gods, might as well just send me home now. I could never deal with such menial tasks of the court. Not to mention church services. Oh, I always fall asleep."

Farkas chuckles as he says, "I can imagine. They were never really my strong suit either."

"That's because all of the smarts went to Vilkas." Libby grins, and she surprises even herself when she giggles when Farkas smacks her in the arm.

Libby grows slightly rigid as Diamond approaches – no doubt suspicious of her and Farkas' affinity. As she tucks her hair behind her ears she takes a small step closer to Farkas, and tries to occupy herself with picking at nonexistent dirt under her fingernails. She can feel Diamond's eyes on her, taking in her new armor and array of weapons about her belt. Her father's Nightingale sword is strapped to her side, hidden by her cloak.

Soon Kodlak joins the group, accompanied by Skjor. The Companions all look to him with smiles and some of them rather eager. They sure seem chipper when he hasn't told them why they're even going to the castle anyway. Kodlak merely smiles and nods in return and simply starts to head up the steps towards Dragonsreach. Vilkas is the first to follow after Skjor, then Aela, and soon the group begins to form.

Libby stays close to Farkas, still feeling Diamond's eyes on her back as she walks with Torvar, Ria and Athis bringing up the back. Libby struggles to pull her hood up over her head, by force of habit as they pass by guards coming down the steps. She folds her arms and presses the close to her chest. Someone nudges her side and she turns to find Farkas with a grin on his lips. She nudges him back, letting the corners of her mouth turn upwards.

They make it inside the castle without issue, and Libby sighs as she feels a slight brush of warm air tickle her cheeks. She rubs her hands continues to follow The Companions up towards Jarl Balgruuf's throne where she finds his steward Proventus and his personal bodyguard Irileth both standing on either side of him. Jarl Balgruuf is speaking with Proventus, but his eyes flick towards the Companions. Libby would've averted her gaze, but she immediately forgets about the Jarl when her eyes find the Jarl's own companion standing behind Irileth. It was a Khajiit woman.

She was incredibly stunning, her features are smooth and beautiful. Her eyes are a crystal, sparkling blue – and they contrast wondrously with her grey and stripped fur. But oddly, what fascinates Libby the most isn't the cat's unfathomable beauty, but the two male guards that stand behind her, armed to the teeth with an assortment of Elsweyr swords and daggers. Their eyes scan the Companions as they approach, sizing up the threat. A gold band encircles her head, a shiny sapphire stone at its center.

The Khajiit woman was a princess.

Her entire ensemble represented that of her homeland: from the sleeveless, beige colored dress that puddles at her feet, to the ivory and gold arm cuffs and bangles around her lean arms and wrists. Gold hoop earrings dangle, winking in the light, three piercings on each ear, and a gold torque is around her neck mixed with beaded necklaces. A hand-weaved, multicolored sash envelopes her waist, and she has sandals the color that remind Libby of the glittering sands that occupy the northern half of Elsweyr. Clasped to her shoulders was a cream-colored cape flowing behind her.

"Ah, Companions!" Jarl Balgruuf welcomes as he rises from his throne. Libby bows in unison with the rest of the warriors as they gather at the base of the dais.

"You sent for us, my Lord?" Kodlak asks, saluting the jarl as he steps back up to this throne.

"Yes," Jarl Balguuf approaches the Khajiit princess, her guards stiffening, but Balguuf wisely stops within a foot of the princess. "Let me introduce to you, Her Royal Highness Princess Nassari Telivani of Elsweyr."

Nassari stands perfectly still, her tail slowly swaying back and forth, her hands clasped in front of her. Her eyes scan each of the Companions, Libby's heart nearly skipping a beat when the princess's eyes fell upon her. She offered the princess a small, friendly smile and the princess steps closer towards the first steps leading down the dais. She has an admirable grace to her step obtained only by the Khajiit.

Libby and the Companions bow low. The princess nods, barely a dip of her chin. Libby knew who she was. She had often heard the Elsweyr rebels boast about Princess Nassari's determination and beauty. They kept saying – as if by fact – that their princess would save them from their plight. Rumors were that the princess would feed information and supplies to the rebel forces hiding in Elsweyr. She was determined to take back her home from the Altmer and reclaim their territory the Dominion had taken from them.

Elsweyr is separated into two nations, both of which are client states of the Aldmeri Dominion. _Anequina_ to the North incorporates a desert like badlands fairly similar to that of Hammerfell, whilst to the South lies _Pelletine_, its geography consisting of a variety of dense jungles and woodland comparable to that of Valenwood. The province is bordered by Valenwood to the west, Cyrodiil to the north and east and Black Marsh to the east, across the Topal Sea.

And yet, what was she doing here? Libby carefully maneuvers her way towards the front of the group. While it went unnoticed by the Companions and the Jarl, Nassari's guards tensed.

"Princess Nassari, these are the Legendary Companions, protectors of Whiterun Hold and respected guild from all across Skyrim." Jarl Balgruuf continues.

With the princess's eyes still on her, Libby does something frankly stupid: she takes a step forward, towards the princess. The Companions all suddenly see her, but Libby manages to open her mouth before any got the chance to stop her, and says in Elsweyr, "Welcome to Whiterun, Your Highness."

Princess Nassari's brows rise slightly, but a smile slowly spreads across her lips. Libby revels in the stares and gaping mouths of the Jarl, the Companions, the princess's guards, and the entire court gathered in the hall.

"Thank you." The princess replies, her voice rather gruff like the rest of the Khajiit Libby has heard before.

"I imagine you must've had quite the trip." Libby continues in Elsweyr. "Have you only arrived today, Your Highness?"

Nassari's guards exchange glances, and Libby can feel the Companions eyeing her. They're either ready to pound her in, or they're relieved with bitter surprise. Not too many northerners spoke the language of Elsweyr. The language itself is difficult to learn and understand, but with her time in Cidhna Mines, she picked up the entirety of the language.

"Yes, and the Jarl was going to send _this_ one" – Nassari jerks her head towards Proventus – "to bring me around without as much as a translator." She turns to the steward and narrows her eyes, who swallows and clears his throat uncomfortably.

Libby folds in her lips to keep from laughing. "He seems rather nervous." Unfortunately, she couldn't stop the small giggle that quivers her lips. "So, what do you think of Whiterun?"

This time, it's the princess's turn to surprise everyone as she takes the first step down the dais towards the assassin. Her guards tense, and Libby can feel the Companions struggling to keep still. If they make even the slightest advancement towards the princess, her guards could mistake it as a threat and will surely cut them down in seconds. Libby is relieved she could even take that one small step towards Nassari.

"I must admit, it is not as bad as I had assumed it would be while traveling here. I had it pictured as more decrepit and filthy. Though the smell is horrid." The princess says, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

_Does Skyrim really seem that bad to other regions_?

Libby smiles with a giggle. "Well, you haven't been to _all_ of the provinces yet. And if you ever do, I'm sure Whiterun will be your favorite."

The princess tilts her head to the side. "Aren't the holds all like this?"

"I'm afraid not, Your Highness." Libby shakes her head, allowing her face to show some slight sadness and disappointment.

"Well, you two seemed to have hit it off well." Jarl Balgruuf interrupts. Libby bites her lip – she had forgotten the Jarl was even there.

"We," Nassari says, struggling to find the right words of the common language. "were talking with the palace."

"_About_ the palace." Proventus corrects, though Libby could sense a bit of impatience in his tone.

"Watch your tongue, steward." Libby snaps before she could stop herself.

Proventus' eyes widen, but he clears his throat as he says, "I meant not to be disrespectful, it's just that if she's here to learn our customs, I should correct her so that she doesn't sound foolish."

Libby still narrows her eyes at the steward, then Nassari speaks up. "I don't believe I caught your name."

"Oh, my apologies," Libby says with a quick bow. "I'm Lilian Camobrook."

At the sound of her name, Libby watches the Companions watch her in disbelief and a little bit nervous. They shift on their feet. What did they expect? If she were to say her real name, Nassari's guards will kill her before she even finishes saying it.

"So my Jarl," Kodlak then says. "was there any other purpose for your inviting us here?"

"I was hoping that you would give the princess a tour," Balgruuf explains. He turns to the princess. "If she so desires."

Nassari narrows her eyes, trying to process the words, but then turns to Libby with brows high, as if she expects a translation. Libby grins and translates the words with ease.

"Despite my exhaustion, I would love to see the city." She replies.

Libby turns to Kodlak. "She says yes."

"All of those words means yes?" Torvar says with a slur.

As Libby shoots him a glare, Njada jabs him heavily in the stomach. The Aela and the twins give him a death glare. _Stupid drunk_.

Kodlak takes a cautious step towards Nassari, careful not to set off her guards. It's clear that they don't trust Nods, for obvious reasons; perhaps their Khajiit noses could smell their heritage? It's an odd thing to think about, but Libby still has little known knowledge about the Khajiit and their abilities. She is of Imperial blood, and they didn't seem as cautious as they are with Balgruuf and Kodlak. "Your Highness, I am the Harbinger of The Companions. Will you allow us to escort you?"

Libby translates again and the princess nods. She steps down the dais as she says, "Please get me out of here." She says flatly. "I don't like how that elf has been staring at me." She says with a wave of her hand towards Irileth. She sets a hand on Libby's shoulder, "At least with you, I'll have someone to talk to."

"She accepts." Libby says, flashing a bright smile.

Jarl Balgruuf nods, though it's stiff. "If that is Her Highness's wish, then it will be granted." Kodlak says. Though his features were a mask of protocol, Libby could have sworn she glimpsed a glimmer of nervousness in his eyes. She quickly gives the approval to the princess and feels childishly giddy as Nassari carelessly links their elbows together and Libby takes the lead of escorting the Companions out of Dragonsreach. She doesn't even bother nodding farewell to the Jarl as she opens the front doors for the princess, and leads her outside.

Princess Nassari looks up and her eyes scan the sky. "It is almost disappointing to think that not all of the holds are as nice as this." She says in Elsweyr.

"It is, though Solitude is rather nice as well." Libby says as she follows the princess down the steps. Libby only sees now that the princess has long, thick locks pulled into a ponytail, reaching down the bottom of her spine, each strand having gold cuffs spaciously decorating them.

Nassari examines the assassin, and Libby knew she was taking in her clothes, her gait, her posture – everything Libby herself had observed about the princess already.

Libby nervously preens her hair. "Is something the matter?" She continues in Elsweyr.

"You do not seem much like the others. How do you know how to speak Elsweyr so well?"

"I've studied it for several years." It wasn't a complete lie. Zusa had Libby learn Elsweyr when she had sent her out to the province for training. Libby can still feel the heat that invaded her pores and feel the soreness of their training that pains her right down to her bones. Not to mention the sunburn that followed her all the way back to Riften.

"You use the intonation of the peasants. Is that taught in your books?"

"I had an Elsweyr woman teach it to me." Again, not a total lie. She did make an acquaintance of a female Khajiit who taught her during their times of mining. Quietly of course.

"A servant of yours?" her tone sharpened, and Kodlak flicks their eyes to them.

"No, no," Libby said quickly. "I don't believe in keeping slaves." She thinks to the serval Khajiit servants that are currently working in her mansion right now. They had started off as trader caravans, Libby hiring them after seeing their business dwindle to nothing. That and she just _hated_ seeing them huddled in their tents during severe weather.

"Then you are very unlike your court companions." Nassari's voice is soft.

Libby thinks back to the slaves still trapped in Cidhna Mine, or thinks of the caravans that are forced to camp outside cities because Nords don't trust them. If she had the means, she could hire every Khajiit she could, but even her resources and contacts are very limited. And she only has so much room in her house.

In fact, she's currently having a home by Falkreath reconstructed. Lakeview Manor. It was a large plot of land, overlooking the Lake Ilinalta, hence its name. A gift given to her by the Jarl Siddgeir after Libby thoroughly eliminated a rival nobleman pining for his position. She plans on filling the manor with jobs for those who need it most: Khajiits, refugees, or former prisoners of war or slavery. She can only hope Brynjolf payment for the upkeep running smoothly.

As they make it down to the marketplace, citizens and guards part ways, their eyes widening as the princess and her guards pass by. "So why are you in Whiterun, if I may ask?" she adds: "Your Highness."

"You do not need to keep calling me that." Nassari casts her gaze to the ground and fidgets with her gold bangles. "I am here by the request of the Mane to learn some of the customs and culture of each of Skyrim's holds, so that I might better by people when I one day ascend the throne."

It's odd to think that Nassari is the princess of Elsweyr when the Khajiit actually worship by a shaman kind of a feline. The Khajiit are ruled by the Mane, a spiritual leader of the province, who, in ancient times, remained neutral in conflicts. The Mane is different from other Khajiit, although he is not of a different breed. The Mane is born during the alignment of Masser and Secunda, the two moons, and when another rarely seen moon is visible. It is said that there can only be one Mane at any one time, although whether this is magical, or the result of the Mane eliminating competition is unknown. Alternatively, it could be due to the very specific lunar conditions that are present at his birth. The manifestation of such a scenario may only occur once in a lifetime; however, there is no lore regarding its frequency.

Perhaps while she's here, she hopes to gain entrance to the Aldermi Dominion. Libby smiles politely as she asks. "How long will you be in Skyrim?"

"Until the Mane asks for me again." She stops fiddling with her bracelets and looks ahead, as if she can see past the city, past the mountains and see all the way back to Elsweyr. "If I'm lucky I'll only be here until spring. I do not think I want to experience seeing those white flakes that fall from the sky. Strange sight as they may be."

"Well, then you might want to stay away from Winterhold. Its name is enough to tell you about the weather." Libby says.

The princess looks to the assassin and tilts her head to the side. "It sounds as if you've seen all there is of Skyrim, but where are you from Lilian?"

Libby casually tucks her hands into her warm pockets. "Riften – is a city situated in the southeastern corner of The Rift in Skyrim. It's a fishing port. Smells terrible."

The princess chuckles. "Now you said your city was in a place called the Rift, is that a surname for it?"

"Oh no, you see Skyrim is divided into nine _Holds_, and each Hold has its own city." Libby explains, trying to use her hands as best she can to demonstrate how Skyrim is divided. "My city's name is Riften, and it's in a Hold called The Rift. Whereas over northwest, there's a city called Solitude, and it's housed in a Hold named Haafingar."

"Oh, I see." The princess nods, though Libby could tell it was still rather unclear how she might've explained it.

Libby waves her hand and smiles. "If we see each other again, I'll bring a map. It's a lot easier when you see it."

Vilkas clears his throat, and Libby looks over her shoulder to find him and a few other of the Companions obviously tired of being left out of the conversation. Libby grins at them. "Don't look so pouty. We must attend to Her Highness's needs." She says in the common tongue.

"Stop your gloating." Vilkas says bitterly. He puts his hand on his sword, and Nassari's guards step closer. Libby's smile grows. They might be The Honorable Companions, but she didn't doubt for a second that Nassari's guards will put them all down if they became a threat. "We're only showing her around the Cloud District before bringing her back to the Jarl's council."

"Way to treat visiting dignitaries." Libby mutters.

"Do you hunt?" the princess interrupts in Elsweyr.

"Me?" the princess nods. "Oh, no" Libby says, then switches back to Elsweyr. "I mean, I used to, but now I'm more of a trader."

Nassari looks out in the distance, as if she can see outside Whiterun's stone walls. "Most of the Khajiit I see here are not living the lives I thought they would. It is disappointing." She looks to the rest of the Companions, and when she next speaks, her voice is quiet, even though they have no idea what they are saying. "They simply travel in caravans, living outside the city's protective walls. All because of the reputation that was unfairly bestowed upon them by those have no other choice."

A familiar ache fills Libby's chest. She nods. "They say that a few bad apples spoil the bunch."

Something cold and bitter gleams in Nassari's eyes. "If that were the case, then I wouldn't even _be_ here in Skyrim, what with the reputation that these _filthy_ Nords have with their glory and lust for blood and misguided passion for their land. My people wish to leave our land for a better life and _this_ is how they get rewarded?!" She stomps her foot, her jewelry clinking. "I don't wish to learn the customs of this land if they do not know what simple means of respect are! And I hate this confounded dress!" she hisses. "I don't care if it's Nord silk and it shows respect for the citizens – the material's been scratching at my fur since I put it on!" she stares at Libby's elaborate armor. "How do you walk around in that thing? Even it seems comfier than this."

Libby lets her fingers brush over the straps around her thighs, keeping her daggers secured to her skin. "It actually gives me a bit of friction burn when I walk, honestly."

"Well, at least I am not the only one suffering." Nassari sighs. Libby smiles as they turn a corner.

Their tour was relatively short, no doubt some of the Companions are disappointed that they didn't get to lop heads off this time. But Libby found it relatively enjoying, especially now that they know she might be only one that the princess can understand. But despite herself, Libby doesn't wish to use the princess for her own means of advancement. She truly finds herself enjoying the princess's company.

They make it back to Dragonsreach, Vilkas speaking with the six guards posted outside about watching the princess and her guards.

"What's he doing?" Nassari asks.

"Returning you to the council."

The princess's shoulders slump. "I've only been here for hours and I already wish to leave." She lets out a long sight, fidgeting with one of her thick locks; its gold cuff winking in the light. Suddenly she whirls and grabs Libby's hand and holds it between her furred ones. Her hands were warm, but there were some spots where the fur was rather thin. Places where a sword or dagger would fit perfectly. Perhaps from training of self-defense . . .?

"Pleases Lilian, will you keep me company while I am here?"

Libby blinks at the request – feeling overwhelmingly honored and flabbergasted. "Yes! Yes, of course! Whenever I am available, I will gladly attend you."

Nassari waves her hand. "I have attendants. I really rather would have someone to talk to."

Libby didn't bother to stop her smile – it beamed so bright and wide it would make others question her sanity. Vilkas turns to the girls, the rest of the Companions all the way back down at the base of the steps, or they have simply walked back to Jorvaskrr when they understood their time has come to an end with the princess. "The council will see you now." he says, and Libby translates.

Nassari lets out a low groan, slightly letting her head roll back. Still, she thanks Vilkas before turning to Libby. The princess takes the assassin's hands once more. "I am glad to have met you, Lady Lilian." She smiled with her eyes bright. "May your road lead you to warm sands."

"As to you," Libby says with a dip of her chin.

With a wave, the princess starts walking back towards the large double doors. Her gown trails behind her, her tail calmly swaying back and forth.

It was certainly a nice first impression. Libby didn't think she had the energy or even the care to try and be friendly towards another, girl or person ever since her and Diamond's friendship had shattered. Ever since then, with her imprisonment and constant company of death, she didn't really think there was a point anymore.

But after meeting the Elsweryr princess, after feeling . . . kindness that she thought had long since been expired inside herself, Libby allows the corners of her mouth to turn upwards. And deep inside herself, she feels a small crack in the absolute silence that has since hardened her heart.


	18. Chapter 17

Today is the day where Libby's trial begins, where they are to venture off in search of that fragment of Wuuthrad.

Upon their return to Jorvaskrr after their tour of Whiterun with the Princess of Elsweyr, Skjor had since asked Libby what the princess had said to her before their departure, and Libby had lied saying that the princess wanted a tour of the rest of Whiterun. They bought it.

She now sits on her borrowed bed in Jorvaskrr's sleeping quarters, a scattering of her weapons in front of her. A small portion of her armory back at her mansion. She picks up one of her favorite daggers: a curved one with a serrated side, and pokes the tip with her finger before setting it back down on the bed.

She hadn't seen Diamond in the morning, and hadn't seen her since their meeting at the Jarl's palace. Though, it's not that she really tried – rather it was the opposite. She had breakfast at her mansion, and she purposely stayed there, bored over her desk until it was time to head back down and join up with Farkas and Diamond for her mission. But even now she still hasn't seen her.

As Libby takes a bite of the honey crisp apple she swiped from the fruit bowl on the dining table, she hears heavy footsteps come through the door to the quarters and head towards her room. She doesn't even look up from her array of weapons as a thick body stands in the doorway.

"I trust it's time?" she asks.

"I hope you've readied yourself." Farkas' voice says with a chuckle.

"Of course, an assassin is always prepared – for the most part." Libby mutters. She looks up as she hears Farkas' armor clink, carefully shifting her daggers as he approaches and sits on the edge of the bed. "So, I hear you're going to be my Shield-Brother, as well as Diamond. There's no other choice."

"So it would seem. Don't seem so disappointed."

"No, no, it's not like that." Libby hurries. "I just –"

"You still feel bad about what happened a couple days ago?"

"To a certain degree." She admits. "I'm just worried that she'll take the lead and not do what I say all because she's being stubborn with me. . ."

"She used to do that?" Farkas grins.

"Oh, all the time." Libby says with a small smile spreading across her lips. "And then she would stumble into a trap or something and then I was left get us both out of it. Sometimes it was exhausting, but –" Libby pauses to bite the small corner of her mouth. "– those were the good memories."

There's a moment of silence, Libby making her final decisions of which weapons she will keep at the front of her belt. She could feel Farkas' eyes on her, but what surprised her more wasn't that he was making obvious, but the fact that she liked it when he watched her.

Libby folds her lips in, and eager to break the silence, asks, "I don't believe I've asked you where we're going."

"We're going to a place called Dustman's Carin. It's not too far outside of Whiterun. It's a Nordic ruin, so we'll be underground." Libby makes a sound of disgust, wrinkling her nose in addition. Farkas smiles, his shoulders bopping as he chuckles. "I take it you don't like Nordic ruins."

"It's not that I don't like being underground, I do that for a living. I just _hate_ those stupid draugr." Libby growls. "The dead need to stay that way: dead, and stiff, and silent."

"Well, let's see if you impress." Farkas rises from the bed and begins to head towards the door. He turns back. "You coming?"

"Yes, give me a moment." Libby says as she hops off and starts to strap her daggers to her belt. Once again she has l eft her father's sword back in the safety of her home. Now she has two ebony swords strapped to her back, as well as Chillrend around her waist – the enchanted glass sword she obtained when she raided Mercer's house.

Chillrend is similar to a standard glass sword, but the blade is pale blue instead of green, giving it the appearance of being covered in frost. While drawn, the blade emanates a vapor as if it were experiencing sublimation, and also makes a constant hissing noise, similar to dry ice.

Then her belts have a variety of orcish and dwarven daggers. She could've pulled her daedric weapons out, but truly this is a fetching missions. No need for such elaborate daggers. Besides, she has too many of these daggers anyway – she keeps forgetting to trade them with Tonilia. Then it's her glass bow and ebony arrows and she is set.

Once she secures her cloak into the clasps of her armor Farkas had given her, she sticks her feet into her boots and pulls her hair back into a ponytail. When she turns to the doorway, she nearly squeaks when she still finds Farkas in the doorway. His face is relaxed, his eyebrows slightly furrowed.

Slightly irritated, Libby says, "What are you staring at?"

"You're beautiful." Farkas says flatly.

"Don't be stupid." The words were so sudden for both of them that her reply was purely out of masked surprise. Farkas clearly said it without thinking as his cheeks turned rather red. Libby internally groans. It's bad enough that things will be rough with Diamond coming along, she didn't want things to worsen with Farkas not speaking to her either. Even when in the ruins of the Nords, there's a difference between needed silence and awkward silence.

But still Farkas continues to say, "Did I offend you?"

Her blood pumped through her in a strange rhythm. "No." she says, and quickly turns her attention to her belt once more even though all of them were secure.

It would be a lie if she said she wasn't flattered by his attention, she actually craved it in her own, odd way. It's been a while since anyone had looked at her that way, if at all safe for Etienne. But that was merely admiration masked as love for her saving him from the Thalmor. She tried to return his feelings – but found it as more of a distraction to her work.

Come to think of it, when _was_ the last time _anyone_ had bothered to look at her like that? True she attracted attention when she was dressed formal or casual, but she's never truly felt as if someone really _looked_ at her. Looked past her raven hair and emerald eyes, looked past her reputation and her wealth, and down to her very core.

Libby knows why. Because deep down inside her, there is darkness; there is ash; there is a deafening silence that holds close to her; there are secrets and there are memories that she could never give voice to again. Memories that would require her to look back upon her past. And the moment someone beholds who she really is, they will turn away.

So she spares herself the heartbreak and self-sabotages. But in turn she also likes to revel in the attention she does get, even if she knew some of the men's intentions were anything but innocent.

But Farkas –

"Now you're staring." He suddenly grin, and Libby can feel her face redden. She hadn't realized her eyes have shifted to Farkas, and her embarrassment reaches new heights when she realizes she's been staring at his lips. Oh her face was growing redder and redder.

The Companion watches the assassin – not in the cautious way he had been advised, rather just because he _enjoyed_ staring at her. His mind was becoming a dangerous place, traversing into plains that should be forbidden. He was aching to learn what the assassin's lips felt like, what her skin smelled like, how she'd react to the touch of his fingers along her body. As did she to him.

Rolling her shoulders to distract herself, she could not have been more grateful when the doors sounded again, and they were accompanied by Diamond's voice. She didn't care when Diamond entered the room, in the midst of saying something, but stopped to snarl at Libby. She didn't care when Diamond barely acknowledged her safe for that. She signals Farkas to hurry, and the Companion nods, looks to Libby and smiles, and follows Diamond out.

They make it out to the backyard of Jorvaskrr, the sun is close to the horizon. Diamond is dressed again in her Chitin armor, her glass warhammer strapped to her back as well as a couple of daggers around her belt, and an Orcish sword around her waist. Libby almost wanted to smile –she remembers Diamond loving her Orcish warhammer before she discovered the Glass weaponry.

Gods, she looks so . . . mature. It's all over her – in the toned muscles of her body, in the honed features of her face, to even her hair as it dangles just above her shoulders. Her muscles have gotten thicker since the last time she saw, Libby had thought Diamond was in better shape than Libby with her time in the mines.

She is no longer the bratty, impulsive assassin she once knew. This is a girl – this is a woman of warrior standards. But Libby just can't' seem to . . . accept it. Denial or just from memory, it's hard to accept.

Once all three are together, Farkas looks to Libby and says, "Alright, take the lead."

She can't hide her surprise as she tilts her head slightly. "What? Aren't we all traveling together?"

"We are, you're just leading." Farkas says, Diamond simply standing still and silent with her arms crossed.

"Alright." Libby says as she turns and starts to trek towards the front of the hall.

As she makes it down the steps, Farkas and Diamond behind her, her heart then thunders. A mischievous smile spreads across her lips.

This, was the best part of her job.

Looking over her shoulder, her only warning was a small giggle to accompany her smile. Farkas' eyes widen, Diamond reaching for her warhammer.

In a heartbeat, Libby's feet take off in a full sprint, bringing her to the base of the steps. She sees Farkas and Diamond hurrying after her, the guards' heads following the commotion, but not stopping her. Libby looks over her shoulder enough that the two Companions can see her smile, and Farkas returns it in understanding, Diamond merely snarling at her.

Libby bursts through the front gates, ignoring the pain in her hands and continues on down the rocky path. Another giggle bursts from her lips, her head jerking to her right as a thick shadow came up behind her. Farkas. Looking back, Diamond is only a foot behind them.

Okay, they're descent runners, but how descent . . .?

Increasing into a full sprint, and gaining a couple feet ahead of Farkas, Libby gives him a grin, her eyes full of light. They don't say much, but they keep this speed going. They pass the western watchtower, which had been reduced to rubble from a dragon attack. There's something she would've liked to see.

This was probably unneeded, and not to mention a bad idea for all of them with their armor, but Libby was so excited – jubilant even that she felt like she could run for miles. And Farkas wanted _her_ to take the lead. Smiling to herself, Libby leads the trek towards Dustman's Carin.

The three of them sprint through the plains outside of Whiterun, Farkas doing well at keeping pace with her. She turns to him when she hears his heavy breathing. "Tired?" she teased. "I knew you Companions didn't do anything other than play with swords."

Farkas lets out a breathy chuckle. "Are you kidding? This was my training as a whelp. I've only been slowing my pace for _you_."

It was only a half-lie. He did train like this as a whelp, he and Vilkas taking laps around the city's walls. But it has been a while, and he hasn't exactly been keeping up with it. And Libby is fast, nimble as a stallion bounding through the plains. And he's finding it immensely hard not to watch her – to watch the way she moved.

"Keep telling yourself that." She says, and runs a little faster.

Farkas increases his speed, not wanting her to leave him behind. Peering over his shoulder, Diamond has fallen back a couple of feet, color high on her cheeks, but she merely keeps running.

By the time Dustman's Carin comes into sight, Libby finally slowed her pace as they approached. They stop just outside the burial mound to catch their breath. Wouldn't want to wake draugr simply because of their heavy breathing. Farkas is seated on the last stone step leading down into the entrance area of the burial, Diamond on the ground and Libby is still standing, stretching her legs.

Farkas tosses Libby a canteen of water, of which she accepts gratefully. Truthfully, if she wasn't the first to drink from it, she wouldn't have accepted it at all – no matter how much her throat is burning. Libby does a couple of walks around the fire stand wiping her forehead. After this, it'll be stuffy air reeking of dust and rotted flesh, and it could be at least a handful of hours before they see the daylight again.

Libby hands it back to Farkas, who takes a large gulp before handing it off to Diamond. She doesn't drink from it directly, rather he holds it a few inches above her mouth and pours it in instead. Once their all hydrated and able to stand without wobbling, Libby opens the door and leads into the crypt.

Immediately her nose wrinkles in disgust and Libby wishes she had brought her mask with her just to provide a thin veil from the odor. They head down a set of steps and into the entryway straight ahead is the archway leading into the next room, but Libby pauses as she beholds this room.

It's slightly messy, a couple of the firepits spilt over, and two to three draugr already lie dead – or rather, dead again after being killed. At the center of the room is a table scattered with books and digging tools. Next to the table is a chest, and inside is supplies and some food.

"Looks like someone's been digging here, and recently." Libby says as she helps herself to the small pack of arrows, adding them to her own sheath. This will definitely be a stealth-kind of missions, hopefully Diamond won't be stomping around. Besides, this _is_ Libby's trial. "Be careful."

They head down the hallway and turn right, and find the next doorway open leading into the burial stones. Before they do in, Farkas says, "Be careful around the burial stones. I don't want to have to haul you back to Jorvaskrr on my back."

Libby turns to him and pouts, making a rather vulgar gesture with her finger. "Think you two can handle a little stealth and quiet?"

Diamond merely scoffs through a grit teeth, and Farkas shrugs his shoulder, keeping his broadsword to his back. "This is _your_ mission. We're just here to observe and keep you alive."

"Remember that." Libby says and then she pulls out her bow and loads an arrow.

She creeps into the chamber, and immediately a hissing catches her ear. She turns to her right and immediately shoots, her arrow landing in the ribs of a draugr. The corpse collapses and a guttural growl.

As Libby loads another arrow, another hiss comes from the left. Her eyes widen and Farkas rises up and draws his sword while spinning aside from the blow of another draugr. One swing from his sword and the corpse is sliced in half and dead.

The third comes from further down, and before Libby has the chance to pull the Companions under cover, Diamond is already sprinting ahead, the head of her glass Warhammer gripped in her hand. The draugr swings its own sword, of which Diamond duck under and brings her hammer up, nailing the draugr in the jaw. Its head snaps off and tumbles to the ground. She stands and turns back, her face still holding a scowl.

Libby and Farkas follow, the Companion saying, "Nice one,"

Libby walks past Diamond and the corpse, not saying a word, figuring Diamond wouldn't care what she said anyway. They turn right to find another door and a widened hallway. Following the path, Libby pulls her hood up over her head, not wanting spiders to fall into her hair.

If it weren't for the walking dead and sometimes inhabitants of necromancers and bandits, the Nordic ruins truly are fascinating. It's all pieces of history, and the draugr – annoying as they are – they were once great warriors. So it was always a little bittersweet when Libby had to face against them.

The trio come to a large rotunda where at its epicenter sits a two-step dais, then old chairs, bookshelves and even an Arcane Enchanter still operational. Farkas sheathes his broadsword, and after scanning from the upper rafters, Libby hops down, sheathing her arrow and slinging her bow over her shoulder. Her weapons are still strapped securely to her back and waist, nothing is missing.

As the three explore, Libby finds an archway blocked off by a gate. "Son of a bitch." She cusses, slumping her shoulders and rolling her head back. "Alright, keep an eye out for a lever." She calls.

Farkas nods, Diamond giving a mere wave, still silent. Part of Libby wanted to say something, but another, more logical, part said that there wasn't a point. But there isn't a point because Diamond doesn't believe Libby is sorry for what she did. All she had to do was apologize, but would Diamond even listen to that?

Her thoughts becoming more tangled than a spiderweb, Libby sighs and decides to walk about the room. She finds a table with a draugr sprawled across it, stiff and dead. Carefully leaning her hand in, she take a couple of gold coins and even another dagger. Over by Farkas who seemed intrigued by the enchanter, Libby inspects the bookshelf, only to find burned books with pages beyond hopes of reading.

She angles her head upwards towards the dome ceiling and can't help but smile at the rays of sunlight poking through the stone. "You know," she says, Farkas turning towards her. "if it weren't for the draugr, and the smell, these ruins are actually fascinating. Like pieces of history."

"Pieces that the draugr are fighting to protect." Farkas says as he fold his arms.

"You think?"

"Of course, everything – or everyone – here were left with their valuables, and I think they're just rising to protect it, as is their job."

"You might actually make me feel bad about coming down here. But remember, you and your guild need this fragment apparently." Libby looks to him and gives a small smile. She takes a seat in one of the available chairs with tall backs.

Farkas approaches, standing near her. "Even if we didn't, you still wouldn't feel bad about the draugr?"

Libby shrugs. "Probably not."

"Why?" Farkas asks, placing one hand on his hip.

"Just from what I read in books about them." Libby answers, placing her cheek on the back of her knuckles. "It's said they were the ones denied Sanctuary by the Divines. So obviously they did _something_ bad."

"Tell that to Ysgramor and his Five Hundred Companions. Not all Nords are like that, no matter how your Imperial books describe us."

Libby gives him a slandered expression and her tone is hard. "I'll have you know, I enjoy a wide variety of reading material, Farkas." She leans forward, her hands clasping the arms of her seat tightly. "And I don't think it's wise for you to start a political debate with me."

Farkas' shoulders relax and he grunts, running his fingers through his hair. "Right. Sorry."

Libby relaxes her shoulders. "It's fine. You have passion, and its admiring."

He gives her a small smile as he relaxes more. "So, what kind of books do you read?"

Bemused by his question, it takes Libby a moment to process it, and control her features as she clears her throat. "Oh, well – um, I do read a lot, like I said, but I guess my favorite would have to be fiction, especially the _Thief of Virtue_."

"I can see that, what with your . . . history."

"Of course," Libby giggles. "Have you read it?"

"I think it should be obvious by now that I don't read a lot."

"You should!" Libby says excitedly. "Books are amazing! Not just fiction, but historical ones as well. The tales they tell from warriors, queen and kings –!"

Farkas chuckles at the assassin's excitement. He doesn't want to say anything because this is her at her most, genuine. A part of her true self that rarely ever shows when inside Jorvaskrr. He wanted to know everything about her: what made her become an assassin; who is she; where was she really from; what had happened with her and Diamond; where are her parents?

So many questions he wanted answers to, but the journey to receiving those answers would be one for the books.

Across the room, Diamond can't help but bite the inside of her cheek as she watches Libby and Farkas. Even though she could hear their conversation from where she was, seeing it for her own eyes had her torn between wanting to rip her hair out or clock Farkas across the head. Could he be any more stupid? Guess it's a truthful statement when Vilkas inherited the brains of the family.

She has tried to keep her mouth shut, but it's only made things get worse. She'll have to speak with Farkas herself; convince him of Libby wavering loyalties. And if he simply disregards her, she'll gladly take up the matter with Vilkas.

As Diamond continues to actually do the work of this group, she hops up two steps and into a small alcove with an easy-to-spot lever sitting on the back wall. Libby's trial be damned. She'll report back to Skjor how she did most of the work while Libby flirted with Farkas.

"Hey!" Diamond calls, and both Libby and Farkas turn their heads. "Found the switch."

Without waiting, she heads to the switch and pulls it. Her skin grows numb when she hears the clang of metal behind her and then the stabbing of stone.

Whirling around, Diamond finds herself her only entrance of the alcove blocked by a thick iron gate. Even if it has rusted spots to it, the bars are still at least three inches thick.

Her cheeks grow warm as the assassin giggles, trying to cover her mouth and Farkas comes over with blank features.

Diamond almost wants to block her face as she sees Farkas' face register exasperation and slightly shakes his head. "Now look at what you've gotten yourself into." Diamond opens her mouth to retort, but Farkas holds up his hand. "Don't worry. Just sit tight and we'll find a release switch."

Libby comes up behind him, her lips folded in to compress a laugh. But she loses the battle willingly and easily. She nudges Farkas with her elbow. "I told you – she used to do this all the time when we would go exploring. I couldn't take her anywhere."

The iron bars whine beneath her hands as she grips them. She can feel her anger boiling over. Perhaps it's a good thing this gate is between her and Libby because she is about ready to smear and splatter the assassin's blood all across the stones of this chamber. An Imperial's final resting place in a Nordic ruin. The irony is enough to spark a small glimmer of dark happiness in Diamond.

But then Farkas chuckles. Not something that's hidden under a breath, but the chuckle that could've been a loud laugh had it not been for self-control. He sets his hands on his hips, dipping his head as his shoulders hop, his teeth gleaming through his lips.

A snap. Diamond doesn't know what it is, but something just . . . snaps.

Her head hangs low, her fists are tight – her nails digging into her palm enough to leave little red crescent shapes. She clenches jaw so hard she feels her teeth ready to crack. Something boils in her stomach and for a moment, she doesn't feel like herself.

This is a familiar feeling. Can it even be called a feeling? It's what had taken over her the night she ran like hell back to the Dark Brotherhood when she found out of the Faceless' ambush on her former home.

When she speaks, it's almost feels like it's from someone else's lips. She can't let it take her over again, but she can entertain it. "I don't need any help."

Farkas and Libby look to her, and her eyes are shadowed by her hair, but a disturbing smile is on her lips. Libby feels her nerves slightly swayed when Farkas' arm shields her from Diamond and the two of them take a couple steps back.

Then, Diamond's head jerks up and Libby's throat instantly clogs. Diamond's eyes are a brilliant ember-gold the pupil a think black slit down the middle. Hair begins to grow out from her face, her canine teeth grow and start to protrude as her nose elongates. Her limbs grow longer and her shoulders double in size. A thick growl slowing vibrating her throat.

The hair spreads from her face and down her arms, consuming her human skin like a virus. Black smoke encircles her, and then her ears stretch into sharp points.

When the smoke clears, Diamond no longer stands on the other side of that cage, but a seven foot werewolf. The beast roars and Libby almost stumbles. It sends shivers down her spine and reverberates through her bones.

Even with her wolf features now, she can still see the corners of the mouth turn up in a grin. Diamond roars again, her throat still feeling like its human, but instead of a scream, another roar bellows from her mouth. Her anger feels charged, heightened like flames of a forge.

Perhaps the spirit of the wolf has always been with her, it just needed a physical form to really put it into reality.

That gate didn't stand a chance.

One swipe of Diamond's claws and the entirety of the gate is abolished, sharp ends pointing outwards or curling like tendrils. Then with the swipe of her other arm, the gate is taken off its hinges and Farkas jerks Libby back just as one of Diamond's claws slices off several strands of her hair. Farkas continues to shield her, Libby even leaning into the Companion as the werewolf steps out of the alcove. Its breathing – her breathing – is heavy.

_This is Diamond. This werewolf is Diamond_. That's what Libby has to keep telling herself as her hand so desperately wants to reach for her dagger and stab the fowl beast through the heart. But she can't. This werewolf is Diamond.

With Farkas still shielding her, he stares the werewolf head on, unflinching. The werewolf grunts, staring at Farkas, and the Companion is about to say something, but shadows across the wall catch Libby's attention. "Farkas!" She barks without waiting.

Farkas first looks over his shoulder to Libby, but quickly follows her gaze and turns to find bandits circling them. Farkas turns his back towards the werewolf – er, Diamond, and draws his broadsword. He and Libby back up with Diamond to the center of the dais. Libby draws her bow and loads and arrow. Counting the circle, there's a total of six.

"It's time to die, dog!" says one bandit.

"We knew you'd be coming. Your mistake Companion." says the Orc.

"Which one is that?" asks the third – a woman. Libby's swallows as she realizes her eyes are on her. Libby pulls back the string, aiming the arrow right for her forehead, but doesn't fire.

"It doesn't matter!" Barks the fourth. "She wears that armor, she dies!"

"Killing you will make for an excellent story." The woman smiles.

Farkas keeps close to Libby and Diamond, and then he grins. "None of you will be alive to tell it."

Libby's fingers are about to release her string, but she suddenly stiffens when she feels Farkas' warm hand on the small of her back. She looks to him, but he keeps his eyes on the bandits. Libby relaxes the string, only slightly.

And then she watches Farkas lower his sword and haunches over. Immediately Libby moves away with hurried steps as she watches the repeat of Diamond's transformation.

_By the gods_ . . .

Farkas' armor is swallowed and he gains an extra foot or so, and then two werewolves now stand against the group of bandits. Farkas is only a foot taller than Diamond, and the two of them turn to stand back to back. Farkas looks to Diamond, and the two seem to – smile.

With a heavy roar, and a leap of those powerful legs, they descend upon the bandits.

Libby fires her arrow, its tip landing in the upper thigh of the Orc bandit. She retreats into the shadows, her mind racing with so many questions she almost forgets to watch the fight. It's not something she _wants_ to do exactly, but rather to observe the power of the animals.

It was over before it started. Diamond immediately pounced onto one of the male bandits, her jaw engulfing the man's entire head. Her jaw clenches and she rips his head off as if she were a dog with a toy. Blood pools under his body, and Diamond whips her head back and forth, the head flinging out of her mouth.

One manages to swipe her sword at Diamond's side, but the werewolf simple whirls and rams her arm into the bandit, sending her flying across the room. The bandit crashes into the wall above Libby, indenting slightly before falling to the ground, her neck snapping on the stone steps.

Farkas is swiping at the two other bandits, their bodies cut clean in half with from those long, sharp claws. And then he pounces onto the fifth one and just swipes his claws back and forth, mutilating the bandit beyond recognition. Blood is pooling everywhere.

Finally, for the last bandit, who is now cowardly backing into the wall, his grip on the sword shaking, Diamond approaches him with her jaw dripping with blood and saliva. Farkas is behind her, rounding the bandit.

Libby had often forgot that werewolves are still people, except that she had always assumed that their human instinct and thoughts and morals are obliterated; replaced with something animalistic. To think that a beast can walk with the mindset of a human, she can't fathom it.

There's an ungodly scream and Libby looks back to find the last bandit torn to shreds, his limbs flinging and flying here and there. Once his blood is splattered across the stone, the chamber falls silent. After a moment of listening, the two werewolves looks to one another and then Farkas heads through the archway into the next room.

Libby watches, fascinated as Diamond begins to shrink. Her fur recedes, crawling back up her arms, revealing her skin and human hands again. More black smoke encircles her and there's still a deep grunting as her arms shorten and her armor slowly emerges from the smoke.

Once the smoke clears, there is Diamond standing with her weapons and her uniform completely clean. There is no blood staining her – _anywhere_! Farkas comes back into the room, his armor back and his broadsword across his back. No blood stains him either. Not on his armor, not on his chin, not on his fingers.

He spots Libby across the room, and despite the skip in her heartbeat, Libby emerges from her hiding spot. She adjusts her bow on her shoulder, her arm brushing against Chillrend against her hip. Farkas approaches, a small grin on his lips. "I hope we didn't scare you."

Libby is silent. She's truly left speechless – what is she supposed to say? Is it even appropriate for her to ask anything? A part of her wants to act as if it didn't, but she couldn't muster the strength or the bravado. Even if Diamond is silently loving seeing Libby so disturbed, Libby doesn't care. This is seriously a lot to process.

"What _was_ that?" she says above a whisper.

"It's a blessing given to some of us. We can be like wild animals. Fearsome." Farkas says, his voice rather soft, and his features gentle. When he reaches out, Libby feels slightly guilty when she steps back, Farkas' face registering a flick of hurt. But she's still on high alert at the moment, still in a small state of shock, and suddenly the tomb feels too small.

"You're not going to make me one of those things, are you?"

"Oh, no. Only the Circle have the beastblood. Prove your honor to be a Companion. "Eyes on the prey, not the horizon."" He quotes.

Diamond merely stands behind him, here arms crossed and a cool expression on her face. Libby adjusts her bow on her shoulders, fiddling with the string between her pointer and thumb. Things have suddenly taken a drastic turn, and it's like Farkas is brand new to her. Just two minutes ago she was talking to him about her favorite books, and the dais wasn't smeared and littered with blood and bodies.

Farkas takes a step back and clears his throat. "We should keep moving. We still have the draugr to worry about." Without waiting for an answer, he turns and heads through the archway into the next room.

Diamond turns and starts to follow, but then Libby stops her with: "I didn't know you could do that."

The Companion turns to find the assassin still standing still, her fingers nervously fiddling with the string of her bow. Diamond's eyes scan up and down Libby, her eyebrows narrowed and a frown on her lip.

"I guess you're just full of surprises too."

Diamond doesn't say anything. She only stares at Libby. Stares _through_ Libby. Her eyes are back to a sapphire blue, but Libby can still see that burning ember-gold scorching her soul.

Then without a word, Diamond turns away from Libby and exits the room, leaving the assassin with her only true friends: Death and Blood.

As they continue on through the ruins, they kill two more bandits before they enter a chamber of the draugr. Libby kneels behind the doorway, loading up her bow. She's about to pull the string back when Diamond steps past her. This time Libby doesn't hesitate as she grabs Diamond's elbow and hauls her back with a viscous jerk.

Diamond stumbles back, nearly hitting her head on the doorframe. "What!" she hisses. Libby signals her to be quiet and shows Diamond her loaded bow. "So?"

Libby pulls back the string and fire. In a flash of a black streamline, it penetrates a sleeping draugr and the corpse grumbles and drops its weapon. Looking to Diamond, Libby simply raises her eyebrows. The blonde Companion only gives a snarl and scoff in return.

As they travel through the halls and chambers of the ruins, they encounter more of the bandits than they do the draugr. It's clear that the two had fought it out for claim of the ruins, bodies of both bandit and draugr littering the floors. Through it all, Libby manages to loot a couple of chests the bandits tried to hide, and find some tomes on archery and swordplay. She shot every draugr before it even got the chance to rise from its stone bed, the trio dealt with any bandits they crossed meanwhile.

They finally make it to the main crypt, most of either side had killed one another, leaving the three with only two bandits and three draugr. But Libby was more than happy to be done with either of them. At least when the entered the den of Frostbite Spiders she was able to collect some of their venom to coat her arrows with. She's been relatively quiet the rest of the way, but at least she could pin the blame on the foes they faced.

The main crypt it large. With multiple sarcophagi lining the walls and spread along a multiple leveled dais. There's a wall at the top, scripted with odd writing behind a table that no doubt must have what they're looking for. Sheathing their weapons, the trio approaches the steps to the top. Already Libby has a sinking feeling just from looking at the multiple black boxes that surround them in the room.

She hops up the steps toward the giant table where a fragment of Wuuthrad sits. But first she goes over to the chest that sits on the second level, and grins as she finds a couple more weapons, a shield and a couple potions. Taking what she wants, she meets Farkas at the table and finds him simply staring at the fragment piece. Diamond is already up a set of wooden steps by the exit. Libby giggles as she approaches Farkas.

"Aren't you going to take it, or do I have to?"

"Well this _is_ your trial." He says grinning.

Rolling her eyes, Libby takes the fragment, but drops it when a pain slices across her palm. The piece clanks loudly as she holds her wrist.

"Easy," Farkas warns. "We don't want to bring an even more broken piece back to Jorvaskrr."

"Sorry. I think I might've cut myself." Libby says as she observes her hand. There's a large gash across her palm – it's not deep, it only broke through a thin layer of skin.

"I didn't know assassins could be so clumsy." Farkas chuckles. Libby looks to him and simply pokes out her tongue. As Farkas takes the piece, Libby tends to her cut quickly with a few drops of a healing potion and linen wrap. What Farkas didn't see was that around the cut, her skin wasn't just cut, but it was burned. It was odd, and it made Libby's heart skip a couple beats.

As they dismount the steps to meet up with Diamond, there's a large crashing sound off to the far left and Libby's spine tingles. Whirling around, she watches one of the draugr step down out of its sarcophagus. And then the next one, and then the next one, all the way around the room until each box is opened, revealing a new draugr.

Diamond quickly joins them, drawing her warhammer. Libby turns to face the Companions. "You know, you wolf friends would be helpful by now."

"We can't" Farkas says as he readies his broadsword.

"What! Why?"

"We need to rebuild our energy. It's too dangerous to transform more than once a day."

"Great." Libby huffs. A draugr raises its sword and charges.

Inhaling deeply, she whirls around and strikes, ramming her fist into the first dragur's arm, sending its blade soaring through the air. In the same breath, her palm hits his left arm, knocking it aside, too. As he staggers back, her leg comes up, and the creature's eyes bulge as her foot slams into his chest. Pleasure fills her as she feels the air leave his lungs and he's sent flying back towards the dais, his body flipping over itself before stopping at the base of the stairs.

Keeping her sword sheathed at her side, Libby senses the second draugr reaching her and side-steps out of the way with maddening ease. Whirling low, she kicks his feet out from under him. Before he even has the chance to fall to the ground, she hurls her knee up, nailing the man in the diaphragm, then clapping her hands together like a mace, she whacks the side of his head, sending him skipping and rolling.

The third draugr's sword comes too close, forcing her to draw her daggers to block the blade aimed for her neck. Pushing off, Libby grunts and spins fast, her blades slicing into the corpse's armor, leaving clear scratches on the breastplate. Ramming her shoulder into the thing's sternum, he stumbles back and Libby pounces, leaping onto his shoulders, locking her ankles around his neck and twisting, hurling herself downward so the its' head bangs into the marble floor.

She rolls out of the way of the fourth draugr's sword, the tip of the blade slicing into her cloak, pinning a piece to the floor. Sheathing her blades, Libby brings up her fists near her face and grins. The corpse pries the sword loose and raises it high. She charges and her fists fire off like vipers, knocking aside the draugr's sword, thrusting the heel of her palm into his nose, and grabbing his wrist and snatching the blade. A kick to the side and he's on the floor, curled into a ball, its own blade stabbing into the back of its skull.

Libby leaps back, summersaulting backwards and pushing herself up into the air, landing on the table. Dropping to one knee, she switches out to her bow, loading an arrow. Farkas and Diamond seem to be doing well, but more are coming from the entrance way. Libby pulls back her string and fires.

Taking down three, they collapse, but two more step out. _Don't these things ever stay dead_?

Another draugr strikes at Farkas, this time bringing the Companion to his knees. Libby's breath halts in her throat. As Farkas doubles over trying to catch ease away, the draugr preps the deathblow. Three arrows impale through its head before it even finished raising its arm. Farkas' eyes are wide as he watches two more arrows pierce through its head just as its timbering to the floor. He looks to find Libby with another arrow already loaded. He gives her a thankful smile and immediately she turns and shoots her arrow at a draugr coming up behind Diamond.

As she chops of the arm of her opponent, she whirls around and looks to the body, then to Libby. Libby points her bow around the room, waiting for another black lid to fall and another draugr to step out. None do.

Calming her breathing, Libby rises to a stand, the string of her bow still taut. "I think we got them all." Jerking her head, she finds Farkas standing beside the table, his broadsword strapped against his back. Diamond's is sheathed too and she's already heading up the steps.

Libby look to Farkas, quickly does a final scan of the room before she loosens the string. She puts her arrow back in her quiver and quickly checks her weapons. Then Farkas offers his hand to her and Libby looks at it, her eyes flicking between Farkas and the hand. She then accepts it and carefully climbs down.

"Are you okay?" she immediately asks when she's down – her own mouth too quick for her thoughts.

Farkas' eyebrows rise, his eyes widening slightly. He claps his mouth shut and clears his throat before turning away. "Yeah, yeah I'm fine." He rubs his hand through his hair.

"Are you sure?" Libby persists, chasing after him.

"Hey!" Diamond calls, and the two look up at the blonde. "Looks like one of the sarcophagi leads out of here."

"Great, I've had enough of the underground." Farkas smiles. He turns to Libby and jerks his head towards the exit. "Let's go."

Knowing she's not going to get much more out of him, Libby simply slumps her shoulders and says, "Okay."

Diamond takes the lead out through the tunnel, Farkas allowing Libby to go first. Diamond's hair shines like a beacon as she follows her out of the crypt and back into Dustman's Carin. The tunnel leads them to a rock door activated by a lever, and they're back in the chamber of the entranceway. Only when they each file out does the thought occur to Libby: she just finished her trial for the Companoins.

She turns to Farkas. "So what happens now? I've finished my mission?"

"We need to head back to Jorvaskrr." He says. The doors of the tomb open and Libby looks to find Diamond already out of the door.

"But –"

"We need to head back now." Farkas interjects, but he gently grips her shoulders. "Don't worry, you did good."

He then starts towards the door and Libby has no choice but to follow.

The trip back to Whiterun felt shorter than their departure, but that could be because Libby spent most of it picturing what could happen now that she's completed her trial. She'll no doubt get another, and who knows how many after just to prove herself, because the Companions can't be too eager to actually welcome her. They'll probably hoping she dies.

They kept a steady jog towards the city, the sky having since grown dark. As Libby follows the Companions, she casts her gaze to the sky. Easily she can spot the constellation of the dragon, Akatosh. As she's seen it pictured in books, she pictures it against the black sky. Its wings are spread wide and its mouth is agape, roaring and reading to spew a wall of furious fire. At its heart, one star shines brighter than the rest.

Libby slows her pace as she continues to stare at the constellation, her world slowly growing mute around her. Akatosh was the chief deity of any species pantheon: Bosomer, Khajiit, Nordic or Imperial. He can have different names and different representations, but he is still a god to everyone's eyes.

Her eyes must be playing tricks on her, because she could've sworn she saw the star at the heart of the dragon flash brightly for a moment. She squints her eyes to see if it'll do it again, but something heavy claps on her shoulder and she tightly gasps. She looks to find Farkas. "Hey, come on." He ushers.

Shifting her head, she finds Diamond standing at the bridge of Whiterun, a hand on hip and an impatient expression on her face. She didn't even realize she'd made it back to the city.

"Oh, right. Sorry." She says and starts to hurry.

"Everything all right?" Farkas asks.

"Yeah, yeah," she quickly dismisses. "I was just thinking too much."

"About what?"

"Things." Libby says, hurrying her pace to signal she no longer wishes to talk about it. She follows Diamond through the gates, trying to ignore the brief flash of nostalgia of when the two of them walked through these same gates to report to the Jarl about Helgen.

As they make it closer to Jorvaskrr, Farkas takes her hand and leads her towards the back while Diamond enters the front door. Libby doesn't say anything, her focus narrowing in on the warmth coming from Farkas' hand. Light rain has started, Libby groaning internally. Let's hope this initiation is quick.

"You nervous?"

"I don't think I need to be." She answers as she pulls her hood over her head. She can feel the piece poking at her side in her pocket.

The back doors soon open and Diamond files out with the rest of the members of the Circle. Kodlak, Vilkas, Skjor, Aela and Diamond. As they approach and form around her, Farkas leaves her side for theirs. Kodlak offers a friendly smile. Libby shifts uncomfortably in her seat. Knowing a secret that she shouldn't is both exciting and nerve-wracking. If she is to speak about it now, they might kill her; and as skilled as she is, it's unlikely she stands a chance against six werewolves.

"Brothers and Sisters of the Circle," he starts. "today we welcome a new soul into our mortal fold. This woman has endured, has challenged, and has shown her valor." Libby's eyes flick all around the Circle, and a majority of them huff in somewhat contained disagreement, their arms folded. She tries to avoid Diamond's eyes. "Who will speak for her?"

"I stand witness to the courage of the soul before us." Farkas says, stepping forward.

"Would you raise your shield in her defense?" Kodlak asks.

"I would stand at her back, that the world might never overtake us." Libby almost smiled, as Farkas kept his eyes solely on her as he spoke.

"And would you raise your sword in her honor?" the Harbinger continues.

"It stands ready to meet the blood of her foes." As he spoke, his chin rose slightly higher, his smile growing wider. For some reason, it feels more like a ceremony of marriage than an initiation. Of course it could just be because Farkas' words are so true. And Libby is tired. So very tired.

"And would you raise a mug, in her name?"

"I would lead the song of triumph as our mead hall reveled in her stories."

"Then the judgement of the Circle is complete. Her heart beats with fury and courage that have united the Companions since the days of the distant green summers." Kodlak raises his arms and looks to each of the members. "Let it beat with ours, that the mountains may echo and our enemies tremble at its call."

"It shall be so." The Circle unifies. Diamond included, thought her expression wishes highly against it, as do the rest. More force than will – apart from Farkas.

Libby doesn't really know what to do to show acceptance. She's about to bow, but the Circle simply dismisses. Everyone walks past her, and when Farkas does, she freezes as she briefly feels his fingertips brush against hers. She's barely given time to maul it over when Kodlak approaches her.

"Well girl, you're one of us now. I trust you won't disappoint." Libby simply nods her head, wringing her fingers. "I sense something is on your mind; do you wish to talk about it?"

"Only if you promise not to rip me apart."

Libby bites her lip the moment the words are out, but Kodlak only nods his head and sighs, his hands on his hips. "I see you've been allowed to know certain secrets before your appointed time."

"It wasn't by manipulation, I can promise you that." Libby says shyly. Thankfully Kodlak chuckles, placing his hands on his hips. "So only the members of the Circle have the blood?"

"Yes, though some take to it more than others." While he speaks, Kodlak notions they take shelter under the awning of the deck as the rain shower increases its heaviness.

"What about you?"

"I grow old, youngling. My mind turns towards the horizon. Towards Sovngarde. I worry that Shor won't call an animal to glory as he would a true Nord warrior. Living like the beasts, we're drawn more the Daedric Lord Hircine."

"So, you're looking to cure yourself?" Libby asks, quieting her voice.

"Yes, but it's no easy matter."

"I can imagine. It's always easier to take than to return. Er – no pun intended."

Kodlak chuckles again, and Libby can feel a warmth clouding around her. A comfort of a kind, like when huddling into a blanket by the fire. "Now, that is enough dwelling. This is a day to rejoice in your bravery!"

He claps Libby on her shoulder and smiles with pride. It stuns Libby to the point that she can't resist either. For a moment, guilt and questions spark in her mind as to why she had to kill Kodlak in the first place.

Yes. Tonight, she will indulge. She will enjoy, and she will live. For she is not washing her hands with blood tonight.


	19. Chapter 18

Libby sits at her bay window, staring out at the gold-tiled roofs of Whiterun. The clock chimes noon. Cuddled in her wool blanket, there's a cup of warm tea at her feet and as well as a book she had been reading. With a pillow pressed between her and the wall, it would've been relaxing if not for the pain seizing her stomach.

At her celebration last night, she was enjoying herself immensely, and it felt like the Companions were warming up to her. That is of course because they had consumed a well amount of mead and ale. But Libby's own celebration was cut short when she felt the pain slowing throbbing in her sternum, and ended up going back to her mansion early.

Focusing on her breathing, she waits for the cramp to pass while mentally cursing the gods who had made her a woman. She had been sitting like this all day, she didn't even leave her room except for going to use her bathroom. Thankfully, Sazami, her Khajiit servant comes in with a warm cup of tea. Behind her, Nimpael is also carrying a lunch tray of soup.

"Here you are, child." Sazami says. "This will help you." She hands Libby the tea, the assassin nearly hissing from the hotness of the saucer. "Careful now." Sazami chuckles.

Nimpael sets the tray of soup on the table beside the assassin. "Could I have the soup instead?" Libby asks quietly.

"Oh, of course." Nimpael chimes, the two servants quickly but smoothly switching the assassin's cup for the bowl of soup.

Libby takes this one more carefully, setting the bowl into her lap. She sighs as the smell of the soup wafts to her nose. "Sometimes I hate being a woman."

"There, there child." Sazami says, patting her head. "It is why we are the dominant gender, no matter what species." Nimpael giggles and Libby smiles.

Staring at her servants, she couldn't be more proud of herself. She has a Bosmer and a Khajiit working together in harmony in her home. They serve her, an Imperial, with smiles and with genuine happiness.

"If you need anything Madame, just call." Nimpael says with a bow.

"We've had our own fair share of monthly pains." Sazami smiles. She pats Libby's shoulder and the two exit the chamber. Libby would've thanked the two as they left but another cramp made her double over, moaning this time.

She once had a normal, or even a high tolerance of her monthly pains. They were more of an annoyance than controlling; but since near-starvation in Cidhna Mines made them vanish, with her weight gain over the past few months, they've come back and now she has to get herself readjusted once again.

Outside, the trees of the city are turning the colors of autumn. All except for the Gildergreen, whose petals remain bright and pink; remaining a beacon of flowers in a world soon to be skeletal and rainy. They'll fall off eventually, but the Gildergreen always was a late bloomer as a result of some kind of magic.

Taking her first sip of her soup, Libby sighs with pleasure as she feels the warmth flood down her dry throat. She takes sip after sip, until her spoon starts to scoop up actual noodles and bits of chicken and carrots. This had to be one of Sazami's own homemade recipes; she could taste some exotic spices doing wonders on her throat.

There's a quiet knock and then her bedroom door opens again and someone approaches. "I thought I'd find you here." It was Farkas.

"What are you – who let you in?" Libby asks, or more rather demands. She was dressed in only her nightgown as she hadn't bothered to change. She was covered decently, but she still didn't want him to see her in her nightly outfit. Not to mention her hair is looking rather tangled.

"Your servants let me in." he answers by jabbing a thumb over his shoulder.

Libby tries not to grimace. "They're not servants." She states. "I prefer the term: employees." She tips the lip of the bow to her lips and gulps down the remnants of the soup. Now all that's left are the noodles and neatly sliced chicken and vegetables.

"Oh sorry I – are you sick?"

"I am, indisposed."

"I don't see how that's possible, I saw you leave your own party early."

"All the more clarification that I am unwell." Libby accidentally snaps. Her irritability is at new heights right now. Didn't he get it?

"I thought I'd come and check on you, thought I'd be seeing you doubled over in a flower pot maybe." He grins.

"I can handle my liquor very well, thank you." As if to be against her, a cramp coil around her lower spine and Libby has to hold her stomach, clenching her eyes and teeth tight.

"It would seem otherwise." Farkas chuckles. Oh if she was able to move she would claw at his eyes.

"Look, I am in a state of absolute agony right now and cannot be disturbed. You came, you saw, now leave."

Farkas merely pulls up an armchair and sits down, making himself at home. He grins at her and Libby snarls. "I thought you'd like the company."

"I don't." Farkas merely shrugs and Libby groans in annoyance pulling her blanket up over her head.

Truthfully, she was yearning for some company other than the ticking of her clock. And yet she didn't have the energy or the tolerance to speak with anyone.

"If it makes you feel any better, some of the others are still in bed as well. It's actually kind of funny."

Libby pulls down her blanket and stares at him. "Including your brother?"

"And Skjor, too." Farkas grins, leaning forward so his elbows rest on his knees. Libby smiles at the thought of seeing Skjor and Vilkas sick in their beds.

"I guess even The Companions need to unwind sometimes." She grins back. As she looks closer at Farkas, she narrows her eyebrows and tilts her head. "You've cleaned up."

When Farkas looks to her, her assumption is confirmed. He has washed his face, and apparently his hair too. Its looks less greasy and smooth. His eyes seem more colored without the dirt around it, though it does reveal a fairly prominent scar going diagonally across his left eye. She also realizes now that his broadsword is missing. Did he – did he clean up just to come and see her?

"Oh yeah, I did." He chuckles. He runs his fingers through his hair.

Looking at his face, he has sharp features, a pronounced jawline and his eyes – they are an icy blue. So counterintuitive of his gentle demeanor. But they are stunning to look at.

"You look nice." She smiles. The pain that suddenly lances her lower abdomen almost would've made Farkas think she was trying to be cruelly funny. But Libby tried her best to control her features. Gods, has she really grown that unfamiliar with her monthly pains?

Farkas chuckles again, nervously and he rubs his hands together. Libby was about to say something next, but as she's looking at Farkas, her head suddenly gets really, really light, and her stomach starts to gurgle.

"So listen, now that you're officially a Companion and all, I guess you know about the Warrior's Festival coming up." Libby can feel herself teetering back and forth, and it's a struggle to keep herself balance _and_ listen to what Farkas is trying to say. She can't vomit. She can do this, she just has to let him finish –

"You might not think we warriors like to celebrate anything but honor, but we do like the festivals as much as the next citizen."

Now his words are beginning to pound in her head, and she has to close her eyes from the bright light. "Farkas." Libby starts to put a hand over her mouth, rubbing her stomach gently but quickly to calm it.

"And while you're still Skyrim's Assassin, I would assume you like special gatherings as well," he continues.

"Farkas." Libby says again. She can't do this. Her body is starting to shake and she's grown cold. She's going to vomit.

"So I was wondering if – if you wanted to –"

"Farkas!" Libby warns. As he looks to her, Libby vomits all over the floor. The bowl of soup in her lap falls out, shattering to pieces and mixing the soup with the bits of her vomit.

Farkas springs up from his chair, making a disgusted noise. Tears spring up as bitter, sharp taste fills her mouth and her cheeks grow red from embarrassment. But she hangs over her knees, letting drool and bile spill on the floor.

"What the – whoa, you're really sick, aren't you?" Farkas calls to her employees, helping Libby from the bay window. Despite her embarrassment, she lets Farkas take the napkin from the tea saucer and wipe her mouth. At least he didn't sprint from the room.

And she did manage to catch the idea of his question before her world went in circles. Though if she's correct on her guess, it's doubtful he still wants to take her.

"Come on, let's get you into bed." He says as he guides her, making sure to keep the blanket around her as she makes it to the bed.

"I'm so sorry." Libby whimpers, her voice gruff and shaky from her convulsion.

"No, no," Farkas denies as he pulls back the covers to her bed. An Argonian female comes in hisses at the mess, and calls for help.

As Libby crawls in, she can't help but slightly shiver at the warmth of Farkas' hand on her lower back. It makes the rest of her shake, only worrying him more. As Libby burrows herself into her covers, she lets Farkas pull the covers up to her stomach, then hands her the cup of tea that managed to survive.

"Thank you," Libby says hoarsely. She takes a sip, making a sour face at the coldness of the tea. "So," she coughs. "what was to you were going to ask? Do I want to go to what – the Warrior's Festival?"

"Oh, that – well, you don't have to go if you're not feeling well." Farkas quickly denies. Libby presses her cold fingers against her cheeks and warm forehead, and her neck.

"I'm not ill like _that_." She says as she watches the servants come in with towels and a couple bucket of water. Oh she just wants to leave with him to another room, but there's no way he's letting her get out of this bed.

"Then in what other way?"

"I, um . . ." Libby clears her throat. But it can't get any worse than this. "My monthly cycles have come back."

Farkas' eyebrows rise and his eyes widen slightly and he blinks. Then he says, "Oh well, that explains everything."

She's so surprised by his retort that her mouth gapes. "Wow, I give you credit. Most men would've run out of the room by now."

Farkas makes a face, but smiles. "Come on, at least give me _some_ credit. When growing up in Jorvaskrr, I've seen it all."

"I don't even want to know how you came to that conclusion." Libby giggles.

Once the servants have finished cleaning up the mess, they leave without a word. Libby will have to apologize to them later. Looking back at the bay window, Farkas spots the book still perched there, thankfully Libby didn't hit it when she doubled over. He reaches over, still cautious not to step into the region of the clean spot, and fetches the book. "Mind if I ask what you're reading?"

"Uh, well –" Libby stumbles as Farkas turns the book to read the title on its spine.

"_Elsweyr Culture and Customs_," he turns to the assassin and grins. "Is this for the princess?"

"And for my own guilty pleasure." Libby say as she reaches for the book, but Farkas holds it away from her. Libby pouts to try and hide her smile. "Give it,"

"Hold on, let me see what's inside." Farkas chuckles as he opens the book.

"Not like you'll _know_ what's inside, anyway." Libby giggles, reaching further, her body close to leaning over Farkas' lap.

"Do you have books like these for every culture?" he asks as he flips to the pages of the Khajiit alphabet.

"Yes I do, as a matter of fact. And for Nords it talks about how they're too stupid to know when to stop teasing an assassin." Libby snaps, managing to snatch her book back. She sets it aside on the table, making sure to pull up the hemline of her nightgown.

Watching her lean over, catching a profile of her body, Farkas had to swallow his temptation and thoughts of wanting to lean in and kiss her distinctive collarbone. When returning her gaze to him, Farkas clears his throat and rises from the bed. "Well, I think I've bothered you enough for today. I'll let you get some rest." He says, turning towards the door.

"Wait!" Libby stops him by reaching out and grabbing his wrist. He turns to her slightly surprised. "What about the Warrior's Festival?"

"You still want to go?"

"Of course. I _like_ attending parties as much as the next citizen. Unless I'm forbidden to go." She pouts.

"No you're not. Not when you're a Companion. By the way, how's it feel?"

Libby shrugs. "Doesn't feel any different. It's just another title I can add to my list."

"Your list?"

Libby waves her hand. "The point of the matter is, I still want to go to the festival."

"Would you still want to go with me?" Farkas asks, nervously rubbing his knuckles.

"Of course, why wouldn't I? It'll be a pleasure to actually see you Companions letting loose for once."

Farkas swallows, trying to ignore the small pain in his chest. "Right." he says, averting his gaze from her. Confused, Libby quickly checks her hemline to make sure it isn't too low. "I guess I will see you then. It's still two weeks away so, hopefully you'll be . . . at your fullest by then."

"Guarantee it." Libby smiles.

Farkas can't help but revel in her smile. It came so much more easily now than before, well, at least towards him it did. And the fact made him proud. He had wanted to tell her that he wanted to go strictly with him; that he wanted to spend time with her, that he thought about her even when they were apart; but he knew she would've laughed.

"Well, I'll just head home then. I hope you feel better."

"Wait," Libby stops him again, her voice softer, shyer. He turns her, and Libby swallows against her dry throat. "w-won't you stay? I really would like the company other than my ticking clock and crackling fire."

Farkas couldn't help it, he blushed. He wanted to accept it; oh he so badly wanted to accept her invitation. He had so many questions he wanted to ask her, both personal and just stupid. But he knew that if he did, if he were to lie with her in this bed, he would've kissed her, he would've told her things that she doesn't need to know, he would even go as far as to think he would've pushed his hand up that silk nightgown of hers. Something about her, her air of mystery cloaked in secrecy and darkness, it left him completely and utterly enchanted.

But this time, he decides to trust his instincts and the imaginable Vilkas he could feel perching on his shoulder. There is a fine line separating them, and despite his multiple times of tiptoeing around it, its still there, and he can't cross it. "I'm sorry, Libby. I can't." he sourly denies. "I've been assigned to deal with some punk in Riverwood, and even Ivarstead."

The disappointment that etches onto her soft features makes Farkas heavy enough to think he might fall though the floor.

"But maybe we can try tomorrow." He says hurriedly.

That makes her face grow brighter. "That sounds better. Hopefully I'll be able to get out of bed by then." Farkas smirks. "Also, before you go, I just – I wanted to say thank you."

"For what?"

Libby shrugs. "For welcoming me into the Companions; willingly, at least, compared to everyone else. With who I am and what I do, it's a miracle you even bothered to acknowledge my existence. And, and I've never had another friend, not since –" she stops herself before she blurts out her past with Diamond. Why was she even saying this? Is she really that loopy from her cramps? Or perhaps it was the tea . . . "I – I guess what I'm trying to say is, I appreciate your kindness. It's been so long since someone's offered it to me. I almost thought it was gone inside me. So, thank you."

Without thinking, Farkas leans down and kisses her cheek. She stiffens as his mouth touches her skin, and though the kiss was brief, he breathes in the scent of her. Pulling away was surprisingly hard. "Rest well, Libby."

"Be safe, Farkas."

As he leaves, Libby watches the muscles in his back, picturing the way they must move under all of that clunky armor. And she can't help but wonder about the way Farkas had said her name: full of sadness and resignation. When he passes through the door, even when his footprints become distant down the hall, Libby keeps staring at the door.

She leans forward, a small smile on her lips, and her cheek tingling where Farkas had kissed her.

* * *

Diamond hurries with Aela along the main road in a good mood, only because Farkas had come to Jorvaskrr and stated that Libby wasn't feeling well when asked. Of course, that did leave to a whole lecture on why he shouldn't even bother going to Libby's mansion, but hearing she was suffering put Diamond in a good enough mood.

Now she and Aela are off to Gallows Rock to slaughter a pack of werewolf hunters. The Silver Hand, the bandits that they faced when following Libby at Dustman's Carin. It was a fair distance off, close to Kynsgrove and Winterhold, but she and Aela transformed and their forms devoured the run as if it was nothing. Now the two of them are jogging up the hill where the large castle tower is pale against the night sky. With the moon full, the light makes the stone almost shine.

She was glad to get away from Jorvaskrr, the place just not feeling the same since Libby had come along. And while she is now an official member, that doesn't mean Diamond has to like her, or respect her. So when Aela had told her that she and Skjor had located a pack of the Silver-Blood, Diamond was more than eager to come along. She hadn't forgotten the Silver-Hand's warm welcome to them in the tomb.

Skjor was already scouting ahead, but hopefully he left enough of those bastards for Diamond and Aela to split between.

As the archway comes into view, Diamond readies her warhammer, priding herself in her chitin armor as he makes through the arc and immediately swings to nail one female Silver Hand bandit, cracking her head back and snapping her hand.

There's a whistle in the air and Diamond rolls to the side just as an arrow zips by her head. Aela is shooting form her spot while Diamond goes in head on. She rubs up the ramp to the mezzanine overlooking the courtyard and spins her warhammer skillfully between her hands. As she approaches the archer, she drops to her knees, sliding and whirling her hammer into the man's sternum. She grins a she hears the crack of bone. Ramming her fist up, she nails him in the jaw and he falls like a rock.

As another comes out from behind shelter of the tower, she's charging for Diamond, but barely makes it within five feet when an arrow pierces her throat. Diamond looks over her shoulder to Aela and gives her a nod and thumbs up of approval.

Jumping down Diamond is giddy as Aela sheathes her bow. "Oh, it's so good to be out like old times!"

"I must be honest, I've missed seeing you smile, Diamond. Seeing you brooding was rather, odd."

"Aww," Diamond giggles as she cutely angles her head.

"Come on, we can't let Skjor have all of the fun." Aela motions as she heads for the door.

Once inside, Diamond sighs as she feels the warm air brush her cheeks. It's getting colder each day in Skyrim, but up north, it's already starting to snow, in autumn!

Looking around, she finds a pull chain that no doubt operates the iron spikes that block their path. Diamond rolls her eyes and immediately pulls the chain. Behind her, Aela chuckles. "Look at this. The coward's must've locked the place down after Skjor came charging in."

"Let's hope he at least left us something to do." Diamond grins.

They head down the steps and into the next chamber, Aela already firing an arrow at one Silver Hand, Diamond charging towards the second one. As the archer readies his arrows, Diamond spins her warhammer, deflecting each. Raising her hammer high, she brings it down and slams the bandit into the earth.

She smiles and sheathes her weapon, but her victory is short lived when she turns her head to find a dead werewolf dangling by its wrist from the ceiling.

"Diamond?" Aela calls. When the blonde doesn't respond, she sighs. "There's a dead one, isn't there." She approaches and follows the blonde's stare. When she beholds the corpse she sighs, "It's no body we know by the smell. This poor soul could've been anyone."

Diamond wrings the strap of her sheath that holds her warhammer. "It's hard to think that some people can't separate the animal from themselves. It's just so easy."

"Easy for you perhaps, Sister, because your spirit is strong. Not many are as lucky as you. Now come on, we have to keep moving." The Huntress says patting her shoulder.

Nodding her head, Diamond follows her through the next door. They're taken to a dungeon-like area, no doubt more for torturing as Diamond beholds all of the cages set on either side of the room. Crouching low on the steps, Diamond switches out to her daggers. Aela creeps up beside her, loading an arrow into her bow. From what Diamond can see, there's one patrolling the hall, one seated at the desk closest to them, and no doubt more in the back.

Spinning a dagger into her hand, Diamond looks to Aela as she slowly draws back her string. The huntress looks to her, and the two share a devious grin. Diamond is about to launch her dagger, when she hears one of the Silver Hand speak.

"Did you hear the latest news?" she asks the male patrolling the hall as he leans one hand on the table.

"No, I'm not much of a gossip person." He replies.

"Well you won't believe this. I almost busted a gut laughing when I heard it."

Lowering her hand, Diamond motions to Aela, and the huntress relaxes her string.

"Just tell me." The male demands, already sounding impatient.

Diamond can tell Aela is eager to loosen her arrow, but right now the bandits are completely relaxed with one another, giving them free rein of their tongues, so Diamond signals her to let them go on.

"I've only heard a couple whispers about it, every now and then. But there's a rebel group that's formed in Whiterun and a couple of their villages, and they want to put Erelia Glendeylin back on Skyrim's throne. Maybe even make her High Queen."

Diamond looks to Aela, a confused expression on her face. Unfortunately the huntress shrugs, knowing as little as Diamond did. Erelia? An heir of some kind, obviously.

"Erelia Glendeylin is dead." The male bandit denies.

The female shakes her head and laughs. "They don't think so. They say she's alive, and that she's raising an army against Ulfric Stormcloak. She's looking to reestablish her court, and to find what's left of Queen Eleanor's inner circle."

Diamond stared at the bandits, overwhelmingly fascinated by the story. To think, a lost heir of some kind, daring to raise an army against Ulfric Stromcloak. It's truly fascinating.

"Hmm, well that is quite the rumor, but that's all it is: a rumor. And until I see this lost queen for myself, I'll gladly just stick to what I do best. As should you." He says as he starts to pace back down the hall.

"But you can't deny it's fascinating!" the female calls, and all she gets in return is a cackle.

Diamond looks to Aela with a soft expression of fascination, and Aela does nod in their silent agreement. Now, once the male is down the hall, Diamond carefully creeps up behind the female sitting in the chair. She cups her hand over her mouth, slicing at her throat before she can even emit a cry. Aela fires her arrow, and Diamond hears is land in what sounded like his throat.

Aela's arrow stirred up another male bandit sitting at the end of the room, and while she handles him, Diamond charges for one simply standing guard against the wall. His eyes beheld her only for a split second before Diamond rammed the blade of her dagger into his heart. She caught him as he fell, leaning him against the wall.

"Huh, a long lost queen. That's exciting to think about." Diamond says.

Aela shrugs. "I'm not one for politics, but the story is enough to peak interest. I wonder if Ulfric has caught wind of it."

The two make their way down the steps and plow their way through another room of bandits before they stalk their way towards another door, this one leading into the main chamber.

"Be careful, Diamond. They're leader is a tricky one. They call him "The Skinner." I don't think I need to tell you why."

Diamond gives a low, admiring whistle, before she pushes open the door, praying for silent hinges. It swings open, revealing the leader and his two lackey's simply tanning fur on the racks. Crouching in the shadows, Diamond holds Aela in place as they hear more of the conversation.

"Hearing these stories about Erelia Glendeylin makes me glad I'm not a Nord." says one Orc male.

"Oh hush up," their leader, The Skinner snaps. "Not like any of its true."

"Why so snappy?" the female amuses. "Afraid they might be?"

"No, but even if it was, what makes you think she won't target the Imperials too?" The Skinner challenges.

"Last time I checked, Imperials weren't the ones who destroyed her entire court and culture."

Perhaps this lost queen has more attention that Diamond assumed. Leaning closer, she and Aela prep their weapons, waiting for the conversation to end.

"Well, if she does rise again, I wouldn't mind joining her empire. We could use the prosperity. Skyrim's gone to shit with this war and all."

"You never know. She could raise an army against all inhabitants of Skyrim." The Skinner provokes.

"Don't be stupid." The female counters. "Unlike Ulfric, Erelia has a heart for all species. Weren't they the first ones to even keep a dragon?"

Diamond would've listened further, but Aela suddenly bursts forward into a sprint, nearly blowing Diamond's hair from its wake. "Aela!" she screams.

But the huntress seems to be on a rampage, her dagger and shield in her hands, she charges The Skinner head on, the other two readying their weapons. Quickly Diamond thrusts a dagger towards the Orc, nicking him in the wrist. As he drops his weapon and turns, Diamond is already there with her steel sword ready, ramming it clean through the Orc's stomach. She sees the tip of the blade over the Orc's shoulder, dripping in read.

Yanking her blade out, she ducks and rolls as an arrow whizzes past her head. She can hear Aela screaming and grunting as she faces head on with The Skinner. All the while, Diamond's stomach hurts; something it wrong. Aela is controlled and professional. Something is so wrong.

In a flash, Diamond launches herself at the female archer. This time, metal clangs and the dance begins again. Reveling in the adrenaline, Diamond allows herself to get lost in the swordplay. To her, swordplay it like dancing; each step follows an unheard tune, and they have to be smooth and precise, or the entire dance is ruined. Remembering the techniques of her uncle, her heartbeat is steady, her breathing even. She is careful of her mask and hood as sweat begins to permeate around her nose and on her forehead.

As she blocks the blade of the archer, The Skinner comes up behind her, shoving her into the woman's frame causing her to drop her sword. She brings her arms down, locking Diamond in with her bow.

Diamond thrashes, but the woman's arms are bolted. As The Skinner charging, Diamond growls and grabs the middle of the bow. She stomps on her holder's foot, loosening her grip and allowing Diamond to careen her over. Unsheathing her warhammer, Diamond spins it effortlessly above and around her head and neck gracefully before ramming the pointed end at The Skinner's head. She feels it impale, blood leaking from the spikes lodged in The Skinner's cheek.

Prying it free with a thick sloshing sound, shakes her hammer out and wipes the blood on The Skinner's armor. She sheathes her weapon and looks around to find Aela knelt on the floor.

"Aela!" she hurries over to the huntress. "Are you okay? What the hell is wrong with you –?" she stops when she beholds what Aela is kneeling over.

Skjor. Or what's left of Skjor.

Diamond's heart stops beating.

His body is so artfully mutilated that the stones are black with his blood. His face has been sliced beyond recognition, his chest cavity is opened wide with his intestines spilling out. His weapons are scattered around him, and they've even shattered his armor into pieces.

"The _bastards_," Aela spat, her fist clenched so tight Diamond feared her fingers might stab through her hands. "Somehow they managed to kill Skjor."

Diamond's heart broke, more for Aela than Skjor. Her voice was shaking as much as her hand as if hovered over Skjor's broken body.

"He was one of the strongest we had –! But numbers can overwhelm. He should_ not_ have come without a Shield-Brother!"

Aela hangs her head low, her shoulders hunching forward. Diamond carefully reaches forward, preparing herself for Aela to burst. She and Aela are alike in such ways. Aela being the one to teach Diamond on how to direct her emotions. Diamond manages to set her hand on the huntresses' shoulder, making Aela almost cower away from it.

"I'm sorry, Aela." Quickly she whips here arm up, smacking Diamond's hand away.

"Get out of here!" she commands. "I'm going to make sure we got the last of them, and see if there's any information to be gotten from the bodies."

Diamond steps forward, staring Aela down, trying to break that façade that is built by grief and sorrow, but the huntress does not waver. Instead, when she approaches, she sets a hand on Diamond's shoulder, and in that instant, Diamond watches the cold, hard anger freeze down into determination.

"You and I have work to do. The Silver Hand will tremble at our sight." Aela promises.

Diamond places her hand over Aela's, the huntress lowering her head, acting as if the touch is scalding her. But she sighs heavily and even allows it when Diamond steps forward to embrace her. It was rather quick, but Diamond hopes Aela appreciated it. Diamond knows what this kind of loss is like. If anything were to happen to Kodlak . . .

With a nod, Diamond turns and leaves the huntress alone.

Making it out of the tower is always easier than going in. Diamond always felt that Aela and Skjor shared something deeper than the rest of the Companions. Diamond even made herself giggle with the fantasies she would create for the two of them, they were so perfect for one another.

Her eyes water as Diamond hurries out of the tower. Skjor had trained her as often as Kodlak had. Skjor, who had once mended Diamond's shattered right ankle. Skjor, the sixth and final member of the Circle. Oh how was she going to tell Kodlak? Diamond's stomach twists at the thought. Skjor had been one of the first members of the Companions since Kodlak's proclamation as Harbinger.

They have to give him a proper burial, they just have to. He died as a warrior and deserves to be sent off as one. And it can't be in that rotten place of a fort. It needs to be here, on Whiterun Hold soil. The city he had loved to so much.

Diamond makes it out of the fort, the night sky having taken over the sky. It was near early evening when they had entered the place. She can't make it back through the night, no matter how much she doesn't want to sleep with the image of Skjor still in her mind, it would be stupid to go tonight. So she makes it to Kynsgrove where she rents a bed for the night.

In her dreams, she stands in a field of grass and stones. In front of her is a large crevice, deep, deep, _deep_ below she hears the roar of water. She can't move, but she doesn't feel scared. There's a warm breeze that tickles her hair and huffing draws her attention towards an outcropping of rocks. She looks to find wolves, ranging from dark grey to black gathering on the rocks.

She still doesn't feel threatened, even when she knew her body felt light enough to signify she had no weapons. Except her heart triples in speed when she realizes she's not in her Companions armor, but rather her armor of the Dark Brotherhood.

Something draws her head towards the ravine towards a forest region where the trees had leaves and blooms, but their colors were dark. The sky was dark, only the full moon haloed in ivory was their only light.

A shadow moves out from the shelter of the trees, its heavy footsteps signifying its weight.

It steps into one of the rays of moonlight, and Diamond's throat hitches.

A werewolf.

As if the moon's rays are burning away its fur and claws, Diamond hears a faint hissing and watches as the creature's fur retreats back to reveal thick, knuckled hands, small scars etching across the front and back. The fur continues to burn away and soon, a familiar wolf armor is revealed, and then a strong chin, the one blind eye, and the red paint that always marked his face

Skjor.

Diamond almost squeals, her eyes watering as Skjor beholds what she was. She wants to cover herself, retreat into the shadows, but she felt doing that would be a horrible mistake.

Skjor stares at Diamond, his eyes burning through her as he stood on the opposite side of the ravine. Diamonds still can't move, and despite the distance, she feels Skjor's warmth as if she was standing a mere foot away from him. Her eyes sting, and her nose sniffles.

She tries to say his name, but her throat seems too tight. Stuffed with words she wants to burst to him, but feeling as if there is so little time.

The Companion simply smiles at her; a gentle smile that she only ever saw while she was training a whelp. The smile that was her only clarification that Skjor actually had a heart when they would spare in the courtyard. The smile he gave to her when he witnessed her first transformation as a werewolf.

The Companion continues to smile at her – silent, contempt, accepting. Diamond could hear whispers, but didn't pay attention to what they said.

Then, without a word, Skjor turns way from her and heads back into the woods. Leaving Diamond alone at the edge of the ravine.

Diamond awakens the next morning and instantly feels her cheeks raw with dried tears. For some reason one of her cheeks is warmer than the other, almost as if a hand had been caressing it. She wipes her tears and sits up.

She's in the cramped room she had rented in Kynsgrove. It only has a simple wardrobe, small table with one chair and her bed set with pelts of animals and thick hay. She wonders if Aela had made it back to Whiterun by now.

As what had happened last night settles into Diamond's mind, instead of feeling unbearable grief, instead of feeling it crack open the grief she had buried in herself since the end of the Dark Brotherhood, she oddly feels a bit of warmth, comfort. Could it have bene the dream? She honestly hopes so.

She doesn't to touch that grief again. She barely wanted to acknowledge its existence. For within that grief also lies that monster that had possessed her the night she had stormed through the Sanctuary, and when she had attacked Libby for the first time ever in their friendship. It is cold, it is deadly, and it is dangerous.

Still, as the sunlight peaks into her room through the tiny square of a window, Diamond's lip begins to tremble. Hunching forward, she hugs her legs close, resting her forehead on her knees and begins to cry.


	20. Chapter 19

As she makes her way up the stone pathway towards Whiterun's main gates, Diamond struggles between wanting to hurry things along and just tell the Companions, or to take her time so that she can find an appropriate way to tell them about Skjor's death. The news itself still lances her heart.

This brings up another point, they should've taken the body. Skjor deserves to be buried in the soil of the land he loved so much, not in some broken down tower. Oh, the Circle might have her head for this, but as bitter as it is, if she's going down, she's taking Aela with her. She _was_ the one who ordered Diamond to get out of the fort.

Coming up the steps, she stops just before the set of double doors and takes a deep breath. Gathering her courage, she pushes her way through.

And as the gods would have it, everyone is seated at the table eating breakfast. Even Kodlak. Gods, just seeing him sitting there makes Diamond's eyes moist. At least Libby is nowhere to be seen, but neither is Aela. Perhaps she spent a night somewhere to sleep off the grief.

"Ah, Diamond. There you are." Kodlak says as he motions her down. "I was wondering when you and Aela would come back. I was worried Aela had taken you on one of her hunting expeditions."

Diamond would've laughed, actually felt her throat tighten with the motion, but she needed to focus on her job. She comes down the steps, her silence enough to already earn a couple of stares from other members. Farkas and Vilkas are sitting together, close to Kodlak, and they pause their eating when they behold her Diamond. Almost everything about her is different – her gait, her posture and her personality.

Kodlak looks to her and frowns, his eyes filling with fatherly concern. "You look troubled, young cub. What is it?" he reaches out his hand and it grasps Diamond's. The blonde Companion whimpers, folding in her lips to keep from breaking down. But her eyes overflow and tears fall down. Kodlak pulls her closer and has her sit in the chair next to him. He sets aside his plate and turns completely towards her. He holds both her hands in his own. "What is it, little cub?" he gently asks.

Diamond struggles to control her emotions as she forces herself to look into Kodlak's eyes, her sapphire eyes gleaming. "Skjor was killed." She whimpers. "He went ahead of us when we went to Gallows Rock, and Aela and I found him, dead."

With the words out, Diamond breaks down. A few remaining sob from last night in Kynsgrove bubble their way up. She cries and finds a couple other members' cheeks streaming with tears, others simply bowing their leads low out of respect.

She feels Kodlak's gentle hand caress her face. "I'm so sorry little cub." He pulls Diamond closer and she lets her arms wrap around the Harbinger, reveling in the protective feelings of his arms.

"We should've gotten there faster." Diamond whimpers. "We had stopped to listen to some of the bandits talk, and maybe we would've gotten there on time –"

"No, no, little cub," Kodlak shushes, wiping away Diamond's tears. "It is not your fault. He chose to go alone, without a Shield-Brother, and numbers can overwhelm."

He grunts and sighs. His eyes are shining and he sniffles. The only sound around the table is the crackling of the grand fireplace. After an appropriate moment of silence, Kodlak turns back to Diamond. "Where is Aela now?"

Diamond wipes her nose with her wrist, and Kodlak hands her a napkin. "I don't know." Diamond sniffs. "She just told me to leave. I spent the night at Kynsgrove, and I thought she would've been back by now."

Kodlak shakes his head, sighing again. "Want me to go look for her?" Vilkas offers already rising from his seat.

"No." Kodlak says. "We'll wait for Aela to come back and then we will send Skjor off."

"We can fetch the body." Diamond offers. "It's not that far, and if I run in wolf form –"

"You'll find yourself dead at Whiterun's gates." Kodlak interjects.

"I have other ways of getting into the city. We can't just leave him there, he deserves to be buried here; close to the place he treasured so much!"

"Diamond," Kodlak calms. "Your heart is filled with grief and regret, I understand. I will send someone else out tonight. I want you to stay here." Kodlak takes Diamond's chin egntly and tilts her up she she's looking at him. Those stone-grey eyes ever so gentle. "Alright?"

As always, Diamond submits and nods her head.

"That's a girl." Kodlak gives her a quick kiss on her forehead and turns back towards the table. "Now, if you would all please join hands, a moment of silence and prayers for our fallen comrade."

All of the members bow their heads in respect, and a few more tears escape diamond's eyes. By the time everyone raises their heads, they each take deep breaths and wipe their eyes. Diamond leaves the room to blow her nose and returns after washing her face and changing out of her armor. She resumes her seat next to Kodlak, allowing his warmth and compassion to seep into her, carefully cracking through her rough exterior of hatred and anger.

The table is relatively silent, no one really in the mood to talk about anything else in worry of it being inappropriate. So Kodlak is the one to lead the conversation, and he asks Diamond. "Now, what was it that you heard the bandits talking about? I figured it would take a lot to keep their attention on anything."

Diamond gives a weak smile and accepts the goblet of sweet ale he pours for her. "Well, Aela and I were preparing to ambush these three in a dungeon, when we stopped to hear one talk about rumors spreading about some long lost heir to a throne."

Kodlak's eyebrows lift in wonder and heads of several Companion members turn.

"What were they talking about?" the Harbinger asks.

"They were talking about some, princess or queen I'm assuming, and how she's rising an army against Ulfric Stormcloak and the Nords." The door opens behind Diamond and she doesn't turn, assuming it has to be Aela. "And we even heard their leader talking about her. I think her name was – oh, what was it . . . Erelia Glendeylin?"

"What!" a voice barks from behind her. Diamond's blood freezes and boils all at once. She turns to find Libby still standing halfway down the steps, her eyes wide, but her expression stern despite how pale her skin looks. "Wait, what? What are you all talking about?"

Diamond can only frown upon the assassin with narrows brows as she descends the steps towards the table. But then Farkas speaks up, "Diamond just got back from her mission with Aela, and she was talking about some rumors related to some lost queen."

Diamond shoots Farkas a glare, and he meets her stare, ten times over. Oh how she wanted to smack him. It would seem his brother does as well as he gives him a glare too. But the Companion is unflinching. Well, at least he didn't mention Skjor's death. Not like Libby would care anyway.

"What's this about Erelia Glendeylin?" Libby almost demands, her tone is harsh and almost . . . urgent.

"Diamond was just talking about rumors that she overheard by the Silver Hand, those bandits that you three encountered while exploring Dustman's Carin." Kodlak explains.

Diamond looks to him with pleading eyes, but he only looks to her then back to Libby, whose eyes are staring right at Diamond. The blonde Companion holds up her hands, aggravated. "I don't know! I just heard them talking about some rebel groups here in Whiterun and about how they want to put her on the throne of Skyrim! And they talked about how she's part of those rebel groups –"

"Erelia Glendeylin is dead." Libby says sharply, interjecting Diamond.

The Companion lets her hand reach for her dagger. Interrupt her will she? "Oh? And how would you know?" Diamond provokes. "A personal kill of yours?"

Libby stares at Diamond, and takes a step forward, loosening both her features and her tone. "No. She's _been_ dead for two thousand years." Libby clarifies as she approaches. "Or, so we thought."

"It seems like you know a lot about this Erelia." Kodlak says. He makes a motion with his hand. "Why don't you sit down and tell us about her?"

Libby gives a small hum before taking the available chair next to Diamond, pulling it out and away and taking a seat. "I'm not surprised you all don't remember her." She says as she sits. "After all, she was wiped out with the rest of the Snow Elves and their empire."

Silence; and even Diamond can't hide her surprise as the name resonates through her bones.

A lost heir to the Snow Elves.

"Erelia Glendeylin was the princess and heir to the throne of the Snow Elf Empire. During their times of war with the Nords, her mother, the queen was murdered in her bed at the royal palace."

Libby looks away from the table and into the fire. The flames dance within the green of her eyes, making the ring of gold around her pupil a living flame itself. She stares into it as if she can see the entire history of this long lost queen in the flames themselves.

"While Erelia and her father attempted to flee, their assailant followed. He came back claiming they were dead, but he didn't have the bodies. It was then proclaimed that she and her father jumped into the river not too far from the castle, and they drowned in the icy water."

"By the gods," Farkas breathes.

"And so, orphaned and buried with grief, Erelia's brother, The Snow Prince, as everyone knew it, gathered an army to avenge the murder of his family, which led to the well-known Night of Tears in Sarthaal. And the rest is history." Libby finishes.

"Where was the Snow Prince during all of this?" Vilkas softly asks.

Libby doesn't take her eyes off of the flames as she answers, "He was sent out to High Rock for training to become Captain of the Royal Guard, and serve as Erelia's protector and guardian." Her eyes slowly move from the flames and to Diamond. The Companions feels a small shiver as she beholds the assassin's eyes. "What else did you hear about her?"

"That she wants to reestablish her court, and find what's left of Queen Eleanor's inner circle." Diamond says without hesitation. Almost as if she was hypnotized by Libby's eyes, the ring of gold still dancing like a living flame inside the green. Libby blinks and so does Diamond, feeling as if she was released. "But I don't know who Eleanor is."

"Eleanor was Erelia's aunt, sister of her mother." Libby answers.

"Wow, that _is_ rather fascinating." Ria says. Heads turn to find her with her cheek against the back of her hand in wonder. "A long lost Queen coming back to claim her throne and avenge her people."

"It's not so fascinating when you're a Nord." Torvar says. "Those Snow Elves I heard were a prosperous empire."

Njada laughs. "Well, it's not like she has much to come back to. Her entire culture was wiped out. All that's left are those vile Falmer. She'd sooner become a Queen of the Underworld rather than Queen of Skyrim."

"What your tongue you ungrateful bitch!" Libby suddenly spits. She bolted up from her chair, sending it tumbling back and slamming her hands onto the table.

Farkas if the first to rise from his seat, Kodlak with a hand ready to hold Libby back. Diamond is right there, she's not even a foot from Libby, and she has multiple weapons at her disposal to cut Libby down within seconds.

But apart from her not being too fond of Njada, there was just something in the way Libby spoke about Erelia, the way she defended her – it was, familiar.

"How would you feel if _everything_ you've ever loved – your family, your friends, your _entire_ culture – was wrenched away from you?! What if you woke up covered in blood that wasn't yours, your forced to flee the home you've always known because it was either live or die?!"

Libby leans further onto the table, her smile becoming laced with hysteria and Diamond could've sworn the flames grew brighter with the passion and hatred behind Libby's words.

"I see that look in your eyes, Njada. You talk all big and proud, but I can see _clear_ through you." Libby cackles. "You're pathetic." She says at a low whisper. "You're still a _girl_, Njada. You're not a woman, you are a _girl_! You haven't experienced the kind of death that changes you. The kind that molds into something new."

Libby's eyes are wild, and the flames are as high as the table now.

"And now I hope that this Queen of the Underworld _does_ come back with an army; and I hope that she targets _all_ of the Nords of this gods-damned land! But I hope that she comes to you first, oh yes." Libby cackles again. "I hope that she comes and finds you, and she will make you feel all of the pain and heartbreak that she endured. And I hope that she make you wriggle like the pathetic worm you are."

With a harsh shove of the table, Libby storms back up the steps and out of the hall. She pushed the table so hard that most of the plates, bottles and wares were sent spilling into the fire. And she slammed the doors so hard that the entire foundation of Jorvaskrr shook, loose dirt dripping down from the ceilings.

Farkas hurries his way around the table, making sure to take Njada's side. Vilkas wasn't loud enough or fast enough as the Companion punches Njada straight in the jaw, knocking her out of her chair. He doesn't even wait to see if she'll get up, as he's already out of the door as well.

Diamond is torn as she watches Ria help Njada up off the floor. Her eyes is already bruising and swelling, and there's a bit of blood in the corner of her mouth. She must've bitten her tongue in result to the punch. She never really liked Njada, and did agree that her comment was unnecessary, and yet she didn't even do anything when Libby started talking so coldly to her.

In truth, it's what Diamond had wanted to say to Njada since the first time Diamond ever snapped on her. Maybe now she'll watch what she says from now on. She should go after Farkas, but after seeing everything transpire, she's too exhausted to care.

Even as she excuses herself from the table, even as her mind is racing with what she had witnessed with Libby, her body is just . . . limp. She needs to rest. So she lazily heads down to the sleeping quarters and plops into a bed.

She finds sleep almost immediately.

* * *

Sitting at her desk in her bedroom, Libby flips through the pages of her tome on the Snow Elf Empire. One of many that she pulled from the shelves of her library after she stormed out of Jorvaskrr.

Her heart practically stopped beating when she heard Diamond say that name. Erelia Gleldeylin, the lost heir of the Snow Elves. Alive and willing to fight against Ulfric Stormcloak.

If it were true . . . No, it wasn't true. If these people actually claimed to have met the heir to the throne, then she _has_ to be an imposter.

Libby flips through her pages, her current tome was a genealogy book of the Snow Elf bloodline. Dating all the way back to the creation of Auri-El. Her books range from information of the Snow Elves themselves, to more current reads on the Falmer. A part of her thinks this kind of research is dangerous, for the more she reads on their history, the more her hatred towards the Nords becomes absolute.

An _entire_ culture was wiped out – by them. Forgotten. Erased from texts so no one would believe that they actually existed. And now their kind has been reduced to vile creatures that dwell in the dark.

She's read each of these books cover to cover, so she has its contents memorized, but perhaps she might've missed something. As she flips through, the pages whispering against one another, she reaches the chapter about the fall of the Snow Prince.

_With their savior defeated, the spirit of the remaining Elven warriors soon shattered. Many fled, and those that remained on the battlefield were soon cut down by our broad Nord axes. When the day was done, all that remained was the carnage of the battlefield. And from that battlefield came a dim reminder of valor and skill, for the brilliant armor and spear of the Snow Prince still shined. Even in death, this mighty and unknown Elf filled us with awe_.

_With the elves' military broken once and for all, the Nords then mounted a genocidal campaign and killed Snow Elves by the thousands_.

A small snarl is on her lips, but sadness overwhelms her. Erelia had done plenty in her time of life, but of course the things she did wasn't valiant enough to make it into texts. There are mentions of her throughout each of the books, but since she was still just a child during the time of slaughter of her kind, there is nothing much to go on for her.

While tradition states that the older sibling inherits the throne, the Snow Prince willingly gave up his position to Erelia for reasons unknown.

What made him think she could handle the weight of her crown? Was he just being lazy, or did he really see something in her that made him know, by fact, that she would lead a better court for Skyrim?

Sighing in frustration, Libby slams the book shut, rattling the cup of tea on her table. She sets a hand on her forehead and grunts. Some of the stories surrounding the Snow Elves have gotten so mixed up through opinions and pride, that she had forgotten the true stories and fault it really was for the war between them. But really, none of it matters.

How is she supposed to find out the truth about Erelia Gleldeylin from looking in the past? The assassin looks out the window to her left, the roofs of Whiterun shining in the early afternoon sunlight. She can even see the small ant people walking around the marketplace.

She needs to look to the future. She needs to delve deeper into the secrets and rumors of these supposed rebel groups hiding in Whiterun Hold. It'll be risky. Now that she's a Companion, if people have come to recognize her enough, and they catch her with talk of rebels, they'll think she's plotting against Ulfric. While the Companions themselves aren't much involved in politics, it could still attract unwanted attention.

It won't help much either if she goes as Libitania. To hear that Skyrim's Assassin is plotting against the Nords, some of her clients for both the Faceless and the Guild could be tarnished. Of course, at this point she could care less what happened to the Faceless.

They've been relatively quiet since her imprisonment in Cidhna Mines. Then again news is hard to come by in the mines in the first place. The only news she did catch was of herself, and when she rampaged through the mines killing everyone in sight. Libby delicately rubs her wrists, her fingers bumping over the scars that were left by her constant shackles.

It was the Faceless who had imprisoned her. It was the Faceless who had betrayed her, after everything she had done for them. It was the Faceless that had made her lose her friendship with her only best friend. But then again, it was the Faceless who took her in, after finding her half-dead in the frozen winter cold. One of the few secrets that Libby keeps to herself – the secret that connects to her past.

Zusa had taken her in after she had lost her father, on the same day she had lost her mother within the span of two years. They're deaths landed on the exact same day. Orphaned in the winter cold, if it wasn't for Zusa pulling up in her elegant carriage, Libby would've died too. So she was indebted to Zusa until she had gained enough money to repay her.

Thankfully, as if blessed by the Divines, Brynjolf discovered Libby while she was touring in Riften, and offered to adopt Libby from Zusa. It was a rough campaign, but Brynjolf being the master debater, won the Queen of Bitches over and she approved the adoption. Though, it did certainly put more of a dent in the Guild's bank at the time. Brynjolf only assured Libby that it was fine.

It was one of the reasons why she was working so hard while she was in the Guild, not only to pay back Zusa, but the Guild as well. They can all say that it didn't matter to them, they can say that Libby meant more to them than gold, but she wasn't paying them back just to clear her debt. She wanted to pay them back because they deserved it. They were her family.

And she did. By killing Mercer Frey and vouching to Nocturnal, the Guild has been brought back to life. And when she was elected Guild Master, she was finally able to pay Zusa back. Her debt to the Faceless Master was big enough to fully fill three trunks of gold.

Even then, even with the five hundred thousand gold coins she had collected to pay Zusa back, the bitch still refused to let her go. And so as punishment for leaving, she sent Libby out to the mines. And then spent all of that money in one night.

Both the Guild and the Faceless _have_ to know that she is out of the mines by now. And if they did, they're sure aren't doing a great job of keeping in touch with her. She had often wondered how it is that Joric was able to convince Zusa to even let him pull Libby out. Prince of Morthal he may be, but to Zusa, it means nothing unless you have the gold. Either Joric really hated the Companions, or Zusa was simply thought that Libby was close to being dead anyway that she approved, thinking Libby would be dead before they even made it back to civilization.

As for the Guild . . . while she had predicted they wouldn't bother reaching out to her, it still hurt not to see any evidence that they were watching over her. And she would've noticed something by now. Perhaps it wasn't a good idea to combine both her Guild and Assassin jobs together.

She was called Skyrim's Assassin because of how she had connections to both the Guild and the Faceless. She was Guild Master and the protégé to Zusa Phoenix. Maybe the Guild want nothing to do with her because she hasn't reached out to them . . .? Or they think she's working and don't want to bother her . . .?

Oh, how she misses Brynjolf. Even with her time in the mines, even when they would lock her in dark shafts as punishment, his face was the only thing she could remember. She could remember every detail. From his red-brown hair, to his cerulean eyes that retained everything from being her master and her father-figure. He never tried to replace her father, he knew he never could, but he came pretty damn close.

She might be able to see them by now. But it would be tricky. Going as Lilian Camobrook, a member of the Companions, if anyone spots her (even though they shouldn't) it could rise up rumors. And as for Libitania, if word spreads about Skyrim's Assassin being in Riften, Prince Joric might pay her a visit to wonder what is going on. Then again, if she's in Riften, perhaps Maven could stop anyone from spreading word. She has been on Maven's good side for at least her whole career.

As Libby begins to exchange books from the large stack to her right, there's a knock on her door. It makes her jump, rattling her chair, until she hears a voice of her employee. "Madame?"

"Hold on!" Libby calls as she reorganizes her desk. She hurries over to her door, wrapping her dressing robe tightly around her to hide her beguiling nightgown. She opens her doors to find one of her Imperial employees standing outside with her hands politely folded. "Sorry. What did you need?"

"There's someone here to see you. Your Companion Admirer, I believe?" she giggles.

Libby's cheeks flush pink, but she makes a face to the girl. "He is not an admirer." She states.

The girl giggles more and says, "He's waiting for you in the living room."

Libby sighs, resting her forehead against the door. "Thank you," she says with a polite smile.

The girl bows and starts to continue down the hallway, her lips still smiling. Libby almost wanted to say something, but instead, she retreats back into her rooms. Quickly she hurries to her bathroom and combs through her hair, flipping it from side to side and making sure it falls evenly around her head. She checks to make sure there's no food in her teeth and even sucks on the lemon of her tea to make sure her breath wasn't repulsive. Carefully adjusting her robe, Libby leaves her bedroom and hurries down the stairs.

She holds the skirt of her as she descends, looking through the archway into the next room. There is Farkas sitting on the couch with his hands clasped between his knees, and looking rather uncomfortable. Probably because of all of the luxuries she keeps in this living room. It does give off a no-touchy feeling with its gold and wood furniture, marbles floors, gilded ceiling and turquoise draperies.

He's looking out of the large windows that shows a spectacular view of the Cloud District. The Gildergreen's branches poke out above some of the rooftops. He doesn't have his armor on, just a simple tunic and pants. With her bare feet padding across the tile, her approach is near silent as she enters the room. "Farkas?" she speaks softly.

His head turns and Libby gives a smile as she watches his eyes widen for the shortest second. He rises from the couch clearing his throat and rubbing his hands together.

Libby stops a couple feet from him tucking her arms against her sides. While she already knew the answer, she asked, "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see if you were okay. You kind of, snapped at Njada back there. Not that she didn't deserve it."

Libby's shoulders slouch and she sighs. She lowers her gaze to the floor, briefly peering at her pink painted toes. "I know, I – I'm sorry. I just get kind of, excited when it comes to the Snow Elves and what happened to them. I suppose the rest of the Companions want me out?"

"I don't think they will. Fights like that happen often enough in our hall. And it wasn't as bad as what happened when you left."

Libby looks to him with a baffled expression. She had only left Jorvaskrr five minutes ago. What could've –?

"I punched Njada while I was on my way out to follow you." Farkas says, his hand running nervously through his hair.

"What?" Libby's eyes widen, and despite the circumstance, she can't hide her smile.

"Yeah. I was just as upset as you I guess."

"Oh my gods, Farkas. What's going to happen?"

"Probably nothing." He shrugs. "Njada needs to be put in her place. Maybe now she'll watch her mouth from now on."

Libby can't help it – she beamed. She couldn't stop her feet as they walked over to Farkas and her arms wrapped around his torso. His armor felt cold and clunky, making the hug rather awkward, but she was just so happy that she pushed it aside for now.

Farkas grows stiff for a moment, unsure of how to take her gesture. But his hands rest on her shoulders as she smiles. "Thank you." She says. She looks up to him and pulls away. "I appreciate that."

"Mind if I ask why you got so, excited, as you would say it?"

Libby sighs, backing up her steps until she takes a seat at the couch. "I'm sorry. It's just – I have a lot of passion towards the Snow Elves, and Erelia's story, it just," Libby turns towards the windows, outside she sees the leaves whirling and dancing their way past her window. "it just gets to me is all."

"You both have some things in common?" Farkas asks. When Libby turns to him, the sudden sadness in her eyes makes his chest ache, and he wants to do nothing but hold her.

"More than you might think." She nearly whispers.

"Like what?" Farkas asks as he takes a seat next to her. Libby nervously shifts slightly, not favoring how his hand is close to her bare knee. She eyes him sternly.

"Why do you want to know?" Libby asks. It came off ruder than she wanted, but she holds strong as she stares at Farkas.

The Companion swallows before his shoulders relax. "It's just – it's just that I don't know anything about you." He admits.

"I'm an assassin." Libby bluntly answers. "That's all there is to know."

"I know," Farkas says, leaning forward with his elbows to his knees. "But what's so wrong about me knowing more about you? Like how you became an assassin – was it before or after you became a thief, and what was your life like before all of that?"

"It's nothing interesting."

"Maybe to you, but not me." Libby doesn't say anything. "Look if it's because I'm a Companion and you don't think I should know all of this, that's fine, I can respect that. But I just – I want to be selfish and I want to know _more_."

Libby's nostrils flare. "Just because I know your secrets doesn't mean I tell you mine."

Farkas just leans closer, his cerulean eyes flashing. "I don't know what it is, but something about you, I find interesting. And I want to know more."

Libby stares at him, silent, and swallows thickly. Farkas just stares at her, relaxing now that's he's finally given voice to what he's wanted to say.

The assassin stares at him, her emerald eyes bright. She can't remember the last time anyone has shown such concern or interest in her. Even with the Guild, even with Diamond, she can never really say she's had friends.

No. She's never had _any_ friends. Friendship is where you know each other, inside and out. They know everything about you and know how you operate. They will always be there for you, as you to them. Libby kept secrets from Diamond. More than she would like. Discovering her in the Faceless had barely scraped the service of the grave where Libby had buried both her past, and her secrets. She could never confide to someone about something so dark, so unfathomable.

But to hear Farkas say that, it hit . . . something. It stirred something in that grave, poking at the dirt.

What could be the harm in letting him know the basics of her? She doesn't have to go far, far back; just enough to suffice his curiosity. She could not reply at all. "Fine. You can ask one question, and nothing too personal."

"Fair enough." Farkas smiles. "Let me think of one, I want it to be good."

Libby rolls her eyes and calls for a tray of desserts. Farkas is currently distracted as he watches a servant come in with a tray of sweets that very from Skyrim to all across Tamriel. The young woman sets it on the glass coffee table encased with polished wood, the legs designed into the paws of a lion. Accompanying the sweets is a tea set made from porcelain of the Summerset Isles.

Libby, to his surprise, pours Farkas a cup and places two tablespoons of honey and a large spoonful of sugar into the cup before stirring and handing it to the Companion. He gives a grateful nod as Libby makes herself a cup.

"Alright, I've got it." Farkas says after she takes a sip. "What's the story about you and Diamond?"

Libby makes a face. "I said nothing too personal!"

"Is it really _that_ prying? How is that any different than asking you why you like horses?"

She looks to him surprised. "How did you –?"

"It's not that hard to miss the stables you keep. It would seem like there are more horses living here than humans." Farkas grins. "Come on, I want to know what it is that she snarls at you every time she sees you. Something had to have happened that made her so angry with you – besides your occupation."

"It's not exactly a day I like to remember." Libby says softly, and closes her eyes for a moment. Farkas' features soften, briefly wanting to ask something else, but Libby opens her mouth. "We were friends. And we were, close. I was in the Thieves Guild, and she was in the Dark Brotherhood. We had met accidentally in Rorikstead when I killed a target of hers and she wouldn't leave me alone. I was fifteen, she was twelve." A ghost of a smile crawls on her lips. "She wouldn't leave me alone and she couldn't find her way around Skyrim. So I showed her. And friendship developed from there." Sadness smooths down Libby's features, her heart almost aching when she draws to the conclusion. "And then one day, I betrayed her. She had found out I was working with the Faceless, whom have been tormenting her and the Brotherhood. It is my fault the Brotherhood is gone. It is my fault she had lost everything. All because I was selfish."

Libby lowers her head, her eyes watering. She clasps her cup of tea between her hands. "And now, now that I know she's here, I want to try and make amends, but I know she won't accept it, or believe it. I want her know I'm sorry, and that I mean it. " Her voice quivers and she laughs under her breath. "I guess going to Cidhna Mines was my own form of punishment, picked by the gods themselves."

"I'm sorry." Farkas says.

"Don't be." She mumbles. "I don't want your pity. It was my doing."

"You might've lied to Diamond, but it was Zusa who sent you to Cidhna Mines; for her own selfish reasons."

"But it was a punishment I deserved." Her lip trembles and she folds them in as her eyes water. Following her sudden fast-beating heart, Libby set aside her tea and turns away from the Companion. Even though she could sense his surprise along with the heat flushing to his cheeks, Libby disrobes – discarding her silk robe to reveal her nightgown. With its thin straps and open back, it reveals the layer of scars that dominate her back.

They overlap one another, crisscrossing here and there, others raking down her entire back like the claws of an animal. She memorized one of the largest scars, starting from the top of her right shoulder then slowly cutting its way across her back until it stops at her lower left hip. That one was courtesy of the overseers who welcomed her to the mine on her first day, and gave her whippings if she showed any signs of trouble; sometimes even rubbing salt into her wounds so they never truly healed.

Then the rest were brought on by the whippings that passed from day to day, one after another and her multiple attempts to escape. Apparently some bastards thought of her as more of an expensive courtesan, or they thought that because she was their property, she should do whatever she was told. But despite her pretty face, little did they know of her volatile temperament. And the day she snapped, she went to their barracks and returned the favor they gave the prisoners.

She hears Farkas gasp. She releases a rattled breath when she feels Farkas' cool fingertips touch her back. She stiffens, but slowly relaxes as her skin devours Farkas' cool touch.

"You didn't deserve this." Farkas says, his voice rough even when he's speaking so softly.

"I did. I do." Libby carefully angles her head to look over her shoulder. "I could've stopped The Faceless, but I didn't. I was a coward."

"_No one_ deserves to be whipped like an animal." He says more sternly.

There's a moment of silence, and Libby slowly turns to Farkas, bits of her hair falling off of her shoulder. She finds Farkas' eyes and nearly gasps when she realizes how close he is.

"How did they even heal?" his voice is so soft, gentle.

Libby turns fully towards him, well aware of how low front of her nightgown is. "I befriended some Khajiit prisoners – healers. They stayed up and tended to my back in the late hours of the night. If it weren't for them, I would be dining with Sithis." She shrugs. "Maybe that's why I feel such a connection towards the princess."

Farkas stiffens, and he swallows. He sets himself back slightly, but casts one arm across the back of the couch. His fingers are barely an inch from her bare shoulder. Libby herself relaxes back, and pulls her legs up. She clasps her hands around her ankles, the fabric of her nightgown gathering around her feet before spilling over the edge of the couch. The slit up the side exposes her lean legs. She's beyond relived she shaved the previous night.

"Well, I think that should suffice for now. You got two answers for one question." Libby says.

There is a ghost of a smile on Farkas' face as he watches the assassin. "So, what do your parents think of their daughter being Skyrim's Assassin?"

"My parents are dead. They died on the same day; one when I was eight, the next when I was ten."

Farkas is silent for a long moment. Then he says, as if they were trading one piece of misery for another, "They killed Skjor."

Libby's eyes widened and her brows narrow. "Who?"

"The Silver Hand. The bandits that we encountered on your trial."

"When?"

"Yesterday. He was assigned with Aela and Diamond on their mission. But he went to scout ahead and he was outnumbered."

"My condolences to you." She says softly. She couldn't give him her pity, not when she stated she didn't want his. But a part of her did feel bad. She was so focused on hearing about Erelia Glendeylin that she had failed to notice that the rest of the Companions were oddly quiet. Even if she didn't like Skjor so much, he meant something to Farkas.

Maybe that's why she received another gift from the Prince Joric this early morning. It was a pair of exquisite hair combs shaped like gold leaves bejeweled with gems of amethyst and diamond.

"Thank you." He says.

When he lowers his head and bites his bottom lip, Libby's heart reaches out to him. She sets her hand over his, rubbing her thumb along his. His skin is rough, almost like leather from his years of fighting. It was so odd: seeing her pale skin compared to his tan, seeing her nice, manicured nails compared to his stubby and stained, bits of dirt kicked up underneath the nail. And yet, their stories, their paths in life have made them so different, but so similar. They made something of themselves, though she could admit that Farkas might've turned out better.

As she keeps stroking his thumb, she lifts her eyes to his and finds them boring into her. She blinks slowly and Farkas mimics her. Suddenly, Libby lifts her other hand and caresses Farkas' cheek. Her other thumb starts to stroke his cheek. Her heart almost sinks when she sees a tear escape Farkas' eye.

His eyes begin to gleam, his lip starts to tremble. Without care or thought. Libby scoots herself closer and pulls Farkas into her. The Companion rests his forehead on her shoulder and Libby holds the back of his head, surprised at how soft his hair is. His shoulders begin to shudder and Libby gasps slightly as she feels Farkas' hands on her lower back, and pulls her closer.

Their bodies pressed against one another, Libby almost relaxes into his warmth. Farkas nestles into her neck and Libby wraps her arms around his head, stroking its back and resting her chin on his shoulder. His body shudders and she doesn't say anything.

She presses her cheek against his and simply rubs his back and head. After five minutes, Farkas settles himself, but he doesn't emerge from her shoulder. And she doesn't hurry him.

While it is completely selfish and completely dimwitted, she actually likes holding him so close. Feeling his strong arms around her torso, feeling the power and strength of his back –

Libby jolts when she suddenly feels Farkas' fingers tracing up her back, over the many scars that cover its entirety. Her arms grip around him tighter, briefly stiffening and gasping. She makes to pull away, but he keeps her close. It wasn't like trapping her, but a small bit of resistance to inform her he doesn't want to pull away.

She hadn't been paying attention to her position, so her cheeks almost flush red when she realizes she's practically been sitting on his lap. Her one leg is tucked in, the other tucked around his waist! How had she missed that –?!

When he does loosen his arms, he pulls back enough to see her face and Libby can feel her heart beating fast. She only hopes Farkas can't feel it. He lifts his hand and caresses her cheek, Libby blinking slowly, the scent of sweet rolls and venison on his hands.

His eyes flick to her lips and Libby's heart just might burst from her chest. She takes a deep breath to steady and prepare herself, but Farkas' eyes flick back to hers. He leans in, and their foreheads press together. Libby's eyes shut and her heart calms.

They stay like this, basking in the company and comforting silence of the other, stroking and caressing the other's skin. Nothing more.

And yet, Libby couldn't get past the disappointment that tickles the back of her mind.


	21. Chapter 20

As the week progresses into the next, Diamond and Aela have been wiping out packs of the Silver Hand while retrieving more fragments of Wuuthrad. It pained her to be keeping their little hunting expeditions secret from Kodlak, but until she feels they've avenged Skjor's death, they will die.

Meanwhile, Libby hasn't really done anything besides spending time with Princess Nassari. Not that she really minded; she loved being with the princess. What started off as letters sending requests for her company a couple times a day, soon turned into habitual get together almost every day. Whether to eat together, or simply stroll around the castle, or simply lie in bed in the princess's room and talk, Libby was glad to have been made a friend of her.

Then the day finally arrives for the Warrior's Festival, and Libby was more than excited for the chance to enjoy the autumn's celebration. Nassari had explained how in Elsweyr, they call the festival Samhain. Libby liked that title better. As rude as it may sound, proclaiming the festival only for warriors seemed rather limited.

The festival was seen as a liminal time, when the boundary between this world and the Otherworld could more easily be crossed. This meant the spirits or fairies could more easily come into our world. At Samhain, it was believed that the fairies needed to be propitiated to ensure that the people and their livestock survived the winter. Offerings of food and drink were left outside for them. The souls of the dead were also thought to revisit their homes seeking hospitality.

Feasts will be had, at which the souls of dead kin were beckoned to attend and a place set at the table for them. Mumming and guising were part of the festival, and involved people going door-to-door in costume, often reciting verses in exchange for food. The costumes may have been a way of imitating, and disguising oneself from the fairies. Divination rituals and games were also a big part of the festival.

There would be other bonfires around, thousands of them scattered throughout the various fields and streets and open squares. Maypoles will be wrapped with streamers of the autumn leaves, painted skulls and carved pumpkins would be on every doorstep, autumnal wreaths made from dried branches will be hung on every door.

Libby was more than excited to finally have fun in her life, but what she didn't expect was for Nassari to show up at the Companion's door, her guards in toll. When Kodlak asked what was happening, Proventus explained how Jarl Balgruuf wanted the princess to enjoy herself at the festival. And so, since Libby (or Lilian) was the only person who spoke Elsweyr, she was assigned to escort her.

Libby didn't mind, in fact, she got up from her seat she had at the dining table and hurried to the princess, wrapping her in a joyous embrace. Nassari was just as excited as well, her smile brightest and most genuine it has been upon her arrival.

The assassin now sits in a chair across from Nassari, whining aloud as the princess blends face paint onto her cheeks. "Uh, I don't like it. How do you do this?" Libby whines in Elsweyr.

Nassari giggles as she continues to work her way towards the other cheek. "I do this every day."

"How?"

"It is not that bad, Lilian." They're sitting at Nassari's borrowed vanity, a scattering of cosmetics on the top – just bits from the enormous collection set in the princess's dressing room.

"No really how? You have fur on your face, and you don't really need it." she smiles when she hears the princess chuckle.

"You are sweet." The princess responds, and Libby could just hear the smile on her lips.

"How does it not feel like you have mud on your face?" Libby says, clenching her eyes shut to ensure nothing leaks inside.

"It actually feels really good. I do not know what is wrong with you." Nassari says as Libby feels her starting to make circles on her forehead. Her breath tickles Libby's knuckles, the smell of her perfume infecting Libby's nose.

"I hate it. I hate having stuff on my face." Nassari has already finished doing her own makeup, her having a thick kohl lining around her lashes. She wanted to do Libby's face next, and the assassin allowed her, despite herself. More out of order of the princess than voluntary.

The princess was already set for the festival, dressed in a gorgeous gown with billowing skirts, exquisite coloring, and whorls of sequence. The completion of the attire being her bone-colored slippers on her feet. Beautiful lace adorns this stunning gown, set in a formfitting silhouette with a sweeping train behind her. Its sweetheart bodice is in the color beige, completely covered with sparkling crystals and jewels cascading into a sheer midriff nude skirt with gold tulle gussets. Her delicate gold earrings glitter in the light, drawing eyes to her elegant neck.

The princess clicks her tongue in annoyance and sets her things on the vanity. Libby blinks her eyes open and exhales. She watches Nassari effortlessly sort through the many tins, containers and brushes, mimicking a painter with so many equipment littering along the vanity. Nassari forbid Libby from looking in the mirror until she is done.

Taking a thicker brush, Libby watches as the princess circles the brush into the rouge powder, small plumes of smoke billowing up. Vocally whining again, Libby closes her eyes again as she feels the princess brush the rouge onto her cheeks.

"Doesn't that feel good?" Nassari says, suppressing a giggle.

"Sure."

"This is fun. I wish you would let me practice makeup on you more often."

Libby opens one eye. "Fun? How is smearing all this gunk on your face fun?"

Nassari sets down her pot of rouge. "If you don't stop complaining, I will draw a mustache on you." Libby's lips twitch but she simply opens her other eye as there's more sounds of clattering on the wooden vanity. "Okay, we have our canvas down."

"What? I thought we were done!"

"Relax." Nassari says as she rises the little container of bronze powder and dusts some on Libby's eyelids. "It _is_ Samhain – you should look nice."

"I would look fine without all of this," Libby argues, her eyelashes fluttering beneath the tickle of Nassari's delicate brush. "Not like they're going to be looking at me anyway with you there."

"Oh please." Nassari snorts with a wave of her hand.

Libby laughs and so does Nassari as she switches once more to another cosmetic. Libby keeps quiet as Nassari finishes the with the powder, then holds still as she feels Nassari line her eyes with kohl and darkens her lashes.

"Okay." The princess says, sitting back so she can see Libby's face. "Open."

Libby opens her eyes, her stomach dropping as Nassari frowns. "What?"

The princess shakes her head. "We're going to have to take it off."

"What? Why?"

"Because you look better than I do."

Libby pinches the princess's arm, laughter on her lips as Nassari pinches back. Her guards stand by the door, small smiles on their lips. Libby turns her head towards the oval mirror and her eyes widen. She expected to see – well, someone unrecognizable. And yet, despite how heavy her face feels, it is still her she sees.

Beneath the black kohl, Nassari has outlined her eyes with gold to bring it out from her eyes, and the eyeshadow is a brown, contrary to the green that matches Libby's tunic. Then her lips are a soft nude, maybe even slightly pink. Her hair was already halfway pinned up, small bejeweled hair pins twisting it in place. It all looks . . . natural.

"Wow." Libby breathes as she blinks. "I'm actually impressed."

"You doubted me?" Nassari says. Libby would've worried she'd insulted her, if it weren't for the princess's mischievous smile. The princess's hair is swooped up into a coronet atop her head, gold barrettes winking with diamonds weaved into her braids.

Helping the princess shove everything back into the drawers, there's a knock that comes from the door. They open seconds later and in steps Kodlak, Vilkas not too far behind. Seeing Nassari, they bow. The princess gives another terse nod.

"Are you all set ladies? We are getting ready to depart." Kodlak says. Libby translates for Nassari and the princess nods.

"We're all set." Libby confirms. She takes Nassari's hand and the two walk out together to the main hall.

There the rest of the Companions are waiting. Farkas is conversing with Torvar, the drunk laughing and hooting about all the mead he can smell already. Libby's heart nervously beats as they approach, grateful for the princess's company. After Farkas came and checked up on her, after their moment together in her living room, Farkas since returned back to Jorvaskrr, shoulders square once more. Through the time since then, he acted as if the moment never happened.

The Companions have since honored and buried Skjor, retrieving the body with the help of Balgruuf and his guards. Tonight, Kodlak had said, that they will honor his memory as they thrive and sing and drink to his name.

Libby approaches with the princess, and Aela is the first to notice the, and bows. The rest of the Compaions turn and bow as well. When they rise, Farkas is the first to speak towards Libby, "You look nice."

Libby smiles. She hadn't failed to notice how his eyes widened when he beheld her face makeup. Dressed in her forest green tunic with gold embellishments and long belled sleeves, she wears brown leather boots and grey pants. A dark red cloak is clasped around her shoulders, still a belt of daggers around her waist and a short sword as well for precautions.

Diamond is standing off to the side, dressed just as nicely too. Her Warhammer looking rather clunky without her armor to match. But she wears a lovely pale pink tunic with dark blue pants and knee-high boots, a cloak of white around her. Her hair is in waves, falling over her ears.

The rest of the Companions vary between normal clothes and their usual armor. Either for precautions or they just didn't bother to change.

"Oh, Your Highness! What a beautiful dress!" Ria exclaims as she beholds the princess.

"Thank you." Nassari says as she picks up the skirts of her gown. Nassari had been taking lessons apparently, by a tutor Balgruuf hired. During their breakfast and lunch meetings, Libby nearly busted her gut laughing at how the princess ranted about how poor the man was.

Ria's eyes flick to Libby as well. "Libby, you look nice as well."

Libby gives a friendly smile. It was a compliment that was rushed or laced with annoyance, apart from Farkas, Ria was rather welcoming, even Libby didn't speak to her as much. "Oh thank you. Nassari deserves the credit though, I just sat back and became her canvas."

"Well you look wonderful." Ria smiles.

"Are you excited about the festival, Your Highness?" Vilkas asks.

Libby is about to translate, but the princess holds up her hand, chewing on the words. And then replies, "Yes, it will be, exciting to see your culture." She says in the common language. Her accent is rather thick, but at least she spoke the words right.

"Wow," Libby smiles, speaking again in Elsweyr. "That was very good. Of course I doubt your tutor deserves the credit."

Nassari hisses and says in Elsweyr, "That blubbering man couldn't teach a dog how to bark."

"Well, then you must be a fast learner."

Kodlak approaches the group, adjusting his gauntlets. "Well now, that's enough talking. There's a whole festival out there waiting for us. Come everyone, let's enjoy."

Nassari lines up with Libby the Companions step aside to allow the princess to go first. Nassari's guards smile towards them as they leave the mead hall. Libby quickly grabs a cloak for Nassari, and after double checking that they have their coin purses, and clasping the cloak for the princess, the two girls then link elbows and walk out behind them. Libby doubles checks the dagger strapped horizontally to her belt, and adjusts her feet to settle the other two tucked into each of her brown leather boots.

Leaning against a wooden post by the door, Diamond watches with disdain as Princess Nassari leaves with Libby. She hated how much the princes admired and loved Libby. It was obvious, she could see it from the way the princess smiled as they hugged, how indulged they were when they spoke their conversations in Elsweyr. She hated it. She hated Libby. She might even say she hated the princess.

If she knew who Libby really was, she wouldn't be so friendly towards the assassin. And yes, if she was being honest with herself, their friendship reminded Diamond of what she and Libby shared so much. And it's not that she wants that friendship back, _gods_, no. It just infuriates her because Libby seems happier than Diamond. Diamond wanted Libby to suffer, feel the heartbreak of being alone like Diamond did. It should be the other way around, Diamond brushing arms with foreign royalty while Libby stands by feeling more alone than before. But of course Libby can speak it, because Libby is just _so damn perfect_!

Diamond snarls. She would just rather see Libby huddled in a dark corner with nothing, absolutely nothing. Miserable, cold and alone, just like Diamond was for the past three years after Libby had taken everything from her. And she still didn't even know why Libby did it in the first place. Maybe that's why she's still so resentful towards the assassin. That's another thing: Libby was an Assassin. The whole time she was working for the Faceless, and here Diamond thought she was just a skilled Thief.

What else has she been keeping from her?

Diamond almost wants to speak to the princess herself, but she doesn't even know the slightest bit of Elsweyr, and the princess doesn't exactly have a strong grip on the common language. Not to mention her guards probably won't even let her get remotely close. Libby just waltzed in because she could speak their language.

The trip to the village was enough to make Libby jubilant as decorative banners swopped across from house to house, the smell of delicious foods and exotic perfumes filled the air. Children are running with each other, carrying sticks that were spewing with sparks. The Gildergreen's trunk is wrapped with ribbons of red, yellow and orange. People are dressed elegantly and eventfully as they walk arm in arm with friends or lovers.

Sections of multiple districts had their roads cut off to allow citizens to travel freely, therefore, traveling by foot was the wisest, even if Libby's ankles complained from pinched toes.

People gasp and part quickly as the royal family walks along the avenues, a trio of guards in toll, nodding towards those patrolling the streets. The festival snakes along the board avenue that stretches from the western gate of the city all the way through three districts to the bridge of the castle.

There were jugglers and fire-eaters, vendors selling wares and tents stripped of red and gold populating the parks. The dance girls, whose billowing skirts are sequenced in tendrils of vines, and then small huddles of musicians each playing their own cheerful number that has couples and children in merry gatherings.

Libby holds her cloak closer to her shoulders as a breeze wafts through the streets. Linked at the arms with Nassari, citizens part way as she and the princess walk down the sidewalk, brightly painted wagons amble past. Her eyes scan the crowds for any signs of her Guild members, though she quickly starts to believe it's pointless. One of them had to be here – no thief in their right mind would _dare_ miss the chance to pick all pockets from both royalty and average citizen since most of them have flocked here for the festival.

A part of her just wants to ensure they are safe and still in high profit – not that she has any doubts. Besides, she might not have the chance to go off on her own since she's been assigned to escort the princess.

So, Libby simply sighs through her nose and allows herself to be swallowed by the excitement in the air. As the center of the local square, in front of the large fountain where children and birds play, sits a throne chair. Guards flank the throne, creating a small aisle towards it. Jarl Balgruuf comes in, nods to the guards and citizens and takes his seat. Rather a bold move to be sitting out in the open, guards or not, he is in the perfect position to be assassinated.

Gazes follow them as Libby leads the group of Companions behind Kodlak. Citizens marvel at Nassari and her guards as they pass. And once they make it to a relatively clear spot, Kodlak turns toward the Companions. "Tonight my children, we revel in the celebration of our kind. We will drink to our youth, to days come and gone. We will honor those who have lifted us, and raise to those who have departed. I encourage you to enjoy yourselves, and may we delve in the world of the gods."

With that, he waves a hand of dismissal. Torvar immediately takes Athis and the two head towards the Bannered Mare, its doors open with the odor of mead and ale. Aela and Njada go off together, Ria in toll. Farkas looks to Libby who only offers a small smile before the princess calls for her attention. Libby can only assume he'll go with his brother. And as for Diamond . . .? While Nassari briefly speaks with her guards, Libby turns to find Diamond speaking with Kodlak, who looks like he might be sitting with the Jarl most of the night.

"Lilian," Libby turns her head towards the princes and gives an apologetic smile.

"Sorry. Now, where shall we go?" the assassin asks.

Nassari lifts her chin and smiles widely. "Wherever the gods decide to lead us."

The two of them were swallowed up by the crowd and quickly Libby led Nassari through the narrow, winding alleys to avoid them. They come out the other end in a different district. This one held all of the games that children and adults alike can enjoy – and waste their money on. Libby knew a majority of these games were rigged to the point that only the lucky can win . . . or the incredibly skilled, such as herself.

Walking side by side with the princess, Libby with her hands tucked in her pockets, she keeps an eye on Nassari as she hurries ahead to some of the stalls. A childlike smile is on her face and her eyes are wide with wonder.

People practically leap out of her way as she comes, excusing herself and trying to dodge elbows. Even without a crown on her head, the beautiful craft of gold still sitting on a plush pillow in the princess's bedroom, people recognize her regardless. Libby keeps up with her, walking graciously through the crowd, her cloak sweeping behind her. The eyes of men and women alike follow her, and she smiles as she could feel a couple glares. With her swagger unwavering, she glances over her shoulder and gives a passing couple a rakish smile. She winks and the woman's man stops dead.

Libby turns away when she sees the woman smack his arm and begin to complain about his loyalties.

When they reach the plaza area, the shops disappear and shrink down into shaded tables with merchandise spread across blankets or whicker placemats, and strings of lanterns swoop from streetlamp to streetlamp, glittering like stars.

When they passed under the striped awning of a vendor from Elsweyr, the assassin and the princess both seemed to walk in unison towards the table when they caught a whiff of the food that smelled divine.

Libby chuckled when she beheld the smile on the princess's face, but it was nothing compared to the vendor's face when he beheld the princess approaching. The princess's guards follow with small smiles as well.

"Your Majesty." The Khajiit male says in Elsweyr as he presses his hands together in prayer position and bows. "Bless the gods, it is an honor."

Nassari gives a nod and a smile to the man. The vendor extends out his hands and the princess lets the man grasp them. The vendor kisses the back of Nassari's hand and mumbles something like a prayer of thanks in Elsweyr. The princess chuckles and sets her free hand on top of the vendor's, mumbling something in reply. The male's smile and expression of envy would make others think he won the largest bag of gold in the world.

"Oh my goodness," she breathes in astonishment, keeping to her foreign tongue. She sets a hand on her chest. "You have all of my favorite sweets. Oh this will not be good."

"Well, it might be good for me." The vendor winks.

Nassari takes a toothpick and stabs it into a pink prawn sprinkled with spices and dips it into a red sauce and holds it to Libby. "Try it." she smiles.

"What is it?" Libby says, taking the small crustacean. Whatever it was, it smells incredible. Libby's stomach calling for that taste to be on his tongue, now.

"Karkalec." The princess says. "It's a Khajiit appetizer."

Libby smells the prawn one more time before popping it into her mouth and – gods, that tasted positively _astounding_! The shrimp explodes into a juice of something spice with lemon, and the salt and pepper sprinkle make his taste buds tingle. Libby knows her face gave away her feelings as she hears Nassari laugh. "Wow." Libby breathes. "That's is incredible!"

Nassari laughs some more as she turns to the man, ordering two plates of the prawn fish. The princess then makes Libby taste a dessert that consists of a rich vanilla custard base topped with a contrasting layer of hard caramel. Libby thinks the princess would've stuffed her with every meal the vendor had if not for Libby's persuasion that they need to explore the rest of the festival. Nassari orders more food from the man, of which her guards carry, and before they depart, the princess and the vendor brush kisses on the cheeks.

Soon they come to a stall where the prize was a simple trio of goldfish in a glass jar. But that doesn't stop the princess as she approaches the stall, run by a balding man with a shining forehead and yellow teeth. When Nassari comes up his eyes widen and he smiles, but it's anything by friendly.

This time Libby picks up her walk. She knew this kind of man. He won't miss the opportunity to scam anyone, especially a native princess with buckets of money to spare.

"Welcome, Your Highness," Libby hears as she approaches. "To what do I owe the honor?"

"Could I play your game?" she asks in the common tongue, folding her fingers together.

"Of course! Of course, Your Majesty. Simply five gold." The man says, his last few words wavering as Libby approaches, her features schooled into neutrality. "Ah, and who is your friend?"

"Lilian Camobrook." Libby answers bluntly. She feels Nassari cast a glance at her, but keeps her gaze on the vendor.

"I see. Would you like to play as well?"

"I'm more of an observer." Libby says, giving him a heedful smile.

The man steps back, his smile wavering as he digs below the countertop and pulls out three thin throwing knives. Across the booth are small square boards set with paper bull's-eyes spread across them.

"The game is simple: stick one knife into the bull's-eye, and the prize of the goldfish is yours!"

"What if I hit the outer rings?" Nassari asks.

"Then you're more than welcome to play again." he smiles as he swipes Nassari's coins off the counter.

Libby has to force herself not to snarl at the man as Nassari picks up the ball. People are stopping and staring at her, watching the princess as she throws the first knife. It hits the wood but at the wrong angle. It vibrates and clatters to the wooden catcher beneath. Libby's shoulders grow rigid as she watches Nassari prep the next knife. This time when she throws, the knife sticks, but it yet again misses the mark. Her third and final knife hits the second ring, but never gets any closer to the center.

Nassari huffs, her shoulders slacking. There's snickering behind them, and Libby's self-control is balancing on an edge as thin as those knives. But it doesn't seem to bother Nassari, or she's very good at hiding it.

"Oh, that's too bad! You're more than welcome to play again, Your Highness." The man persuades, laying his hand openly ready for more coins to drop.

Just as Nassari is about to take up the offer, Libby steps up next to her and drops ten coins on the counter. She stares the man dead on and says gruffly, "My turn. Ten coins, six knives."

The man stares at her with surprise, blinks, and then rises to the challenge by nodding and grabbing the six knives. He puffs out his chest too, his short-sleeved tunic doing little to suppress his disgustingly large gut. "They're all yours."

Libby gives a snobbish grin as she steps up to take Nassari's place. The princess tries to whispers something to her, but Libby simply shushes her softly.

She picks up the knife. She focus narrows to the small, black dot in the center of the target. She steadies her breathing as she cocks her arm, letting her wrist go loose. The blackness of the bull's-eye beckons, and as she exhales, she sends the dagger flying.

It sparkles, a shooting star of steel. Libby smiles grimly as it sticks home.

Beside him, Nassari exhales in awe, the vendor's eyes wide and Libby's smile broadens. Soft mutters come from the small gathering behind them.

"I believe you owe us a fish."

When the vendor turns his head, the assassin is spinning the throwing dagger through her fingers, a mischievous smile on her lips. She's more than ready to imbed the thing in the man's eye. His eyes are wide, his mouth agape in disbelief.

"You said to stick only _one_ knife into the target, did you not?" Libby barks, her tone cold and harsh.

The man struggles to find words and then he coughs. "Listen, how about we make this interesting –"

Libby throws the second knife, and the blade clangs as it lands a hair's breadth from the one she'd already embedded in the bull's-eye.

Nassari's brows rise, accentuating her sapphire eyes. Libby spins the third knife between her fingers, and strikes the target. Then she throws the fourth with her left hand, and fights her whoop of triumph as the blade sinks into the handle of another knife.

"Now that makes four fish total." Libby says, leaning forward onto the counter, crossing her ankle. She leans closer to the vendor and says softly. "Now unless you want these last two embedded in your eyes, you'll give them to us."

The vendor's head is shinier now that it's permeated with sweat. Libby leans back and twirls the knives, stabbing the tips into the counter.

"Go."

The vendor quickly scrambles behind the counter and gathers four bags of the fish, carefully scooping them up and into the same bag. Securing the knot as best he can he hands the bag with slight shaking hands to Libby. She takes them and gives a smile. "Enjoy the rest of the fair."

Taking the princess's arm in her hand, the two girls walk on keeping quiet until they feel the eyes deteriorate. Only when they're on the other side of the gamer district does Libby lead Nassari under the awning of a floral shop and hand Nassari the bag of goldish.

"Well, you certianly put him to shame." she says in Elsweyr, laughing under her breath. She lifts the bag of four goldfish, watching them as they swim around.

"He's lucky he still has any eyes after what he tried to do." Libby says bitterly. She folds her arms under her cloak, her fingers slightly cold.

Nassari rolls her eyes. "I wasn't going to keep going, you know. I am smarter than you think."

"I never said you weren't. I just hate people when they do that. I could see he was ready to ween every coin you had out of you."

"I have plenty more."

"Still, that doesn't mean you should encourage him." Libby is about to continue, ready to chastise the princess when a voice breaks through the crowd.

"Good evening to you, ladies." The girls' heads turn and Libby has to fight for air and self-control when she sees the man walking towards them.

The world is taken out from under her, and her eyes well with tears. He was worried she might even start shaking. She had to . . . she had to dreaming. So see his face –

Dressed in a dark tunic and pants, a wool jacket around his shoulders, his auburn hair is smoothly combed and his blue eyes are swimming with controlled excitement.

Brynjolf.


	22. Chapter 21

Libby takes a step forward.

One step, as if in a daze.

She loses a shuddering breath, and a small, whimpering noise comes out of her – a sob.

Nassari's guards grow tense as Brynjolf approaches, but Libby whips past them and is sprinting down the street of bustling people and children, expertly weaving around them, flying through as if the winds themselves pushed at her heels.

She flings herself into Brynjolf, crashing into him hard enough that anyone else might have fallen to the ground. But Brynjolf grabs her to him, his arms wrapping around her tightly and lifting her up. Nassari makes to approach, but her guards stop her with a hand.

Libby laughs as she cries, and Brynjolf just holds her, his head buried in her neck, breathing her in.

"Uncle Brynjolf!" she exclaims. Her voice pitching from her sobs.

He's here! He's _here_! Gods, she is shaking from head to toe, and can't stop crying, not as the full weight of missing Brynjolf crashes into her, the weight of those years spent alone in darkness. At least she had enough sense to keep up the charade of her identity. When growing up and meeting clients in public, Brynjolf always posed as her uncle, which is kind of a truth, he was like family at this point.

"What are you doing here? How did you _find_ me?"

He shushes her, brushing a loose strand of hair out of her face. His callused fingers scrape against her cheeks in the lightest caress. The gentleness of it makes her choke on another sob. "Well I'm not to miss out on festivals, and I know you aren't one as well." he grins.

Libby gives an ugly giggle and buries her face in his chest. "That doesn't answer my question." she chokes, and Brynjolf's laugh echoes through the crowd.

"I will tell you of course, lass, but we need to be somewhere more private. Oh lass, it's alright." Brynjolf chuckles as Libby continues to shudder from her crying. Brynjolf rubs her back and kisses her forehead, resting his cheek against her hair.

Finally Libby pulls away, flashing a grin. She wipes her tears from her cheeks with the heels of her palms. She turns to Nassari who still has a weary expression on her face, and when she sees Libby's face, her eyes widen. But when Libby gives a smile and a wave, the princess gives a lipped smile in return, loosening her shoulders.

Brynjolf leans close to Libby, and she smiles when he hears the surprise and disbelief in his voice. "Is that –?"

"Princess Nassari Telivani of Elsweyr." Libby smiles. "I was – or am – escorting her around the festival while she's visiting Skyrim."

"Well, color me impressed lass." He chuckles.

Libby smiles back and takes Brynjolf's hand, leading him toward the princess. Her guards palm the swords, but Nassari motions them to stand down. When Libby reaches the princess she gives an apologetic smile and says to the princess in Elsweyr, "I am so sorry Nassari. This is my Uncle, and I just haven't seen him in years since his depart to Cyrodiil –"

Nassari stops her with a hand and a giggle. "It is fine, Lilian. I understand."

Libby gives a soft smile, her heart slightly skipping a beat when Nassari said her alias name. But at least Brynjolf caught it, giving him a little insight on why she's here. What is she to do now? She wants to speak with Brynjolf, so bad, but she can't just abandon the princess, not when she was on duty to Jarl Balgruuf.

But then Brynjolf answers for her when he says, "I apologize for the interruption, Your Highness," he says bowing. "I hope you're enjoying yourself."

Libby giggles when Nassari cocks her head and narrows her eyebrows. Libby laughs when the princess turns to her and then Libby turns to Brynjolf. She translates for Nassari and the princess nods. "It is, alright." She says carefully. "I would too if I missed my family."

Brynjolf looks to Libby, impressed. He knew she spoke Elsweyr already, but nothing as fluent as she is now. "She doesn't speak the common language, now yet at least."

"What is she doing in Skyrim?"

"She's here to learn our customs to better herself when she ascends to the throne."

"Don't you think it is rather risky, lass?"

"How so?"

"I'm assuming you've heard about the rumors of Erelia Glendeylin." He whispers.

Libby's heart launches into her throat and she has to control her breathing. Her nostrils flare and she takes a couple deep breaths. She shouldn't be surprised that Brynjolf caught word of the lost heir of the Snow Elves, but it still concerns her in that the rumors are spreading faster than she thought. And this could include the supposed rebel groups hiding here in Whiterun Hold; if things get too famous, if eyes start to turn, they might flee out of the hold, and then she'd be left with nothing on their connection to Erelia.

Libby gathers her bravado as best she can and gives a laugh. "I have, but you can't possibly think they are true." Brynjolf only gives her s stern look, and Libby's façade falters.

The way he had implied the sentence, it sounded as if he knew something about Nassari that Libby didn't. But when the thought clicks with her, something about the princess opens up.

Nassari is rumored to be working with rebels – but Libby thought it was to free her own kind from the Thalmor. And while conspiring with Erelia could be a possibility, she can't be because –

"Would you two like some time together?" Nassari then says in Elsweyr. Libby feels her panic rise. She didn't mean to leave the princess out of the conversation so long.

"Oh – um, I'm sorry Nassari. I mean I can't just –" Libby starts to stutter.

"Go," Brynjolf says to her. Libby turns to him, feeling herself sinking. Brynjolf only smiles at her, "Go have fun." He jerks his chin towards the princess. Libby begins to protest, but Brynjolf takes her arms and runs his hands down to hers. "I'll see you when you're free. I'm not leaving for another couple of days."

Libby didn't know if he was saying it as a cover or if he was being true. But he did know where her house was, he was there when she bought it. He must mean he'll see her there. It has to be. She's not ready to let him go, not just yet.

He kisses her forehead once more and rubs her shoulders. "I'll see you tonight." Without giving her a chance to protest, he looks to the princess, bows and bids her a simple farewell in the common language. The princess nods and gives her beset smile. With that, he vanishes into the crowd. Libby stares after him, wringing her fingers. She then feels gentle fingers grasp her shoulders and finds Nassari with a soft smile.

Sighing through her nose, Libby straightens herself, and feeds off of the excitement and happiness she feels bubbling in her breast. She had seen Brynjolf, he had come from Riften to see her. And she's going to see him again tonight.

So she will enjoy herself, and she will keep herself in her heights of happiness. She deserves too. "Well, the night is still young. Come, let us enjoy it."

She continues her tour with the princess, winning her a couple more prizes from the games, including a crown of exotic flowers and a stuffed toy of a bear. One of her guards temporarily leave them to deliver the prizes back to Dragonsreach, and when they return, the crowds have shifted as the lighting of the bonfires was about to commence.

When they reach the Square, the mass of people is overwhelming, the lock chiming eight. A couple of smaller bonfires have been lit, the giant on in the middle still in prepping. As Libby walks linked with Nassari, she immediately spots the other Companions, Farkas mostly, standing aside from the rest of the group with Kodlak. Diamond is sitting at a table with an already drunk Torvar, smiling, but it's not genuine.

The two approach Farkas and Kodlak and the Harbinger gives a smile. "How are you enjoying yourself?" he says slowly to the princess.

"It has been a wonderful night." Nassari smiles.

Kodlak smiles and turns towards Libby. "And what about you?"

"It's been going good, better than I expected." Libby giggles. She's a little bubbly – that having to do with the samples of wine swirling in her stomach at the moment.

She and the princess have already consumed a fair amount of wine along their trips, nearly sampling each glass of a wine vendor before Nassari's guards wisely escorted them away.

"You made it just in time, they're going to be lighting the fire soon." Farkas says, jerking his chin towards the giant logs leaning against one another at the center of the square.

Translating the sentence, Nassari claps her hand in excitement. Kodlak offers them each a small kabob of meat and vegetables, Nassari licking her pointed fangs teeth.

As they wait, the sounds of flutes and plucking of violins catch Nassari's attention. She looks over her shoulder and finds a trio of musicians strolling along the streets. They play their instruments feverishly, bowstrings fluttering like the wings of an iridescent dragonfly. The rhythm they keep is a pacing one-two, one-two-three.

At the sound of the music, Libby could tell Nassari's adrenaline spikes and suddenly she's jittery and excited. She has to be. Music is lively in Elsweyr. Briefly Libby flashes back to the times when she was younger – back when she vacationed in Corinthe – how when bards played in the streets, a person would start dancing, and then soon nearly half the marketplace would join in.

Jittery and fidgeting, the princess breaks away from the assassin. Libby watches the princess as she approaches then trio and whispers into the ear of one, then that one turns to the next as each exchange from one to the next.

People start to cap and cheer as two men approach the main firepit. With a small canteen of oil in their hands and, the other bearing flames from his hands, citizens cheer as they dump the oil onto the logs.

The mage with the ribbons of fire spinning from his hands, he takes safe steps back and raise his arms. He extends them out, and steams of fire burst forth, aimed right at the logs. There's an explosion of sparks and black smoke, the wave of air rushing around all of the citizens as the fire blooms to life around the logs, Libby and the princess and the companions clap with the rest of the crowd who have already started roasting meat over the fires.

As they eat, the sounds of flutes and plucking of violins catch Nassari's attention. She looks over her shoulder and finds a trio of musicians strolling along the streets. They play their instruments feverishly, bowstrings fluttering like the wings of an iridescent dragonfly. The rhythm they keep is a pacing one-two, one-two-three.

At the sound of the music, Libby could tell Nassari's adrenaline spikes and suddenly she's jittery and excited. She has to be. Music is lively in Elsweyr. Briefly Libby flashes back to the times when she was younger – back when she vacationed in Corinthe – how when bards played in the streets, a person would start dancing, and then soon nearly half the marketplace would join in.

Jittery and fidgeting, the princess breaks away from the assassin. Libby watches the princess as she approaches then trio and whispers into the ear of one, then that one turns to the next as each exchange from one to the next.

Farkas comes up behind Libby ready to ask her something, but he stops when he finds the assassin staring at something. He follows her gaze and sure enough finds Nassari dancing on her own, smiling and hopping from one foot to the other by the main firepit. She takes the skirts of her gown and spins and flails them outwards, blooming like a flower.

She then skips over to a young girl with her parents and bends over to take her hands. Her parents encourage her and the princess pulls and spins with her out towards the area in front of the firepit.

Nassari then goes over and grabs the arm of man with a wheat-colored mustache and pulls him in, his friend chuckling behind him. Not stopping, the princess goes and grabs the arm of a balding man, who grabs the wrist of his woman friend, who then proceeds to grab the hand of an older gentleman, all being pulled into the circle. Lastly, the princess wanders over to a single woman, a hair band taming down her crazy brown, curly tresses, and hooks her arm around hers. She smiles gleefully and she follows the princess to the center.

By now, several people have picked up the tune of the bards and have begun clapping along, raising their hands high and laughing and smiling at the gathering mob; some even tapping their feet.

Nassari leads the people in a circle around the small mosaic etched in front of the fire. It is the dance that is known by all who live in this kingdom as they know the steps near instinctively and begin squealing with glee at the clapping beat of onlookers. The dancers turn like dervishes, skirts flaring out. They twirl and glided across the mosaic, linking arms and keeping the chipper rhythm.

"She sure knows how to start a crowd." Libby smiles.

Farkas looks to her, and then looks back at the crowd that Nassari started all on her own. People clap on the outside, cheering and laughing so blissfully, the dancing seeming to have transformed them.

The princess herself twirls out from her partner and motions Libby and Farkas to come in. Libby smiles shaking her head, Farkas holding his arm up declining the offer. Libby smiles devilishly as she turns to Kodlak. Then without warning, she suddenly presses her hand to Farkas' back, shoving him into the crowd, forcefully accepting Nassari's invitation.

He nearly trips through the other dancers, stumbling into the throng. Once he steps inside, a woman instantly takes his hand, and he only has a moment to glare back at Libby. The assassin is doubled over laughing, is smiling as she shakes her head at the rather goofy dancing. Kodlak is chuckling with his white teeth shining.

After about another minute, another man readies himself for an opening, and then when a young woman invites him in, his feet skip to the rhythm and he takes the woman's hand excitingly.

Libby stands off to the side, tapping one foot to the beat. She can't help but watch curiously and with a feeling of desperation, what it must feel like to be so, free. She's had her fair share of fun, but it was hard to enjoy when she had to kill a client.

All her life it's felt like she's been stuck in a rigid place where nothing should be slouched or loose. Always precise and accurate. Any routine she's practiced, nothing compared to this, it was for when she was undercover in assigned to assassinate a Duke or Noble; and the dancing was required to stop from attracting any unwanted attention.

Here, people sing out of tune and flop themselves around with smile, not caring how stupid or uncontrolled they are, yet still they work in unison to the song. Digging through her heart, past the wonder and mocking she boasts towards them, what she really finds, is envy.

"Care to join in?" Nassari asks. Libby looks to find she has broken away from the crowd and holds out a hand to the assassin. Libby looks to the hand as if it holds a poisonous snake. "It's not that bad if you look stupid, Lilian." she whispers. "Live a little, my friend."

Reluctantly, but with excitement ruling her over, Libby takes the princess's hand and she pulls Libby to her. She spins Libby in a tight circle, and quickly they exchange to different partners. The world blends into a mesh of chaos, color, and noise.

Libby is thrown into revolution after revolution, almost swinging into another pair of dancers who scamper aside, laughing. With her instincts to learn quickly rising up, Libby focuses hard on the beat of the clapping and the one-two steps she memorized by watching. She's swept into another spin.

This time she feels herself twirl effortlessly into the movements and gains a new partner as she rotates into the circle. She's picked up the dance. Now it's as if she's known the dance perfectly, even though she's never waltzed in her life.

Her feet follow through with the steps, and Libby soon finds her lips expanding wider. She looks around and finds Nassari in the crowd. The princess turns to her and laughs, her white teeth gleaming, and they link arms, rotating into the next partner. Libby's ribs do hurt, but only from the constant contraction of laughter. The satisfaction and . . . joy she has, reduces other feelings to dust.

The assassin and the princess spin again at the twiddle of a flute and Nassari laughs with such enthusiasm. Libby then feels her chest heave again with exhausted laughter. With another link of arms, Libby is spun again, this time with Farkas as her partner. They two spin so that her back faces Farkas and they link hands. Farkas' one hand on her waist as he guides the assassin into a promenade.

Giggling with drunken laughter, Libby follows, her eyes trailing to the hand that rests on her side, Farkas' fingers cupping her ribs with a touch as light as a butterfly. Dancers churn around them like storm-tossed flowers, their heads held to either side as they whirl with abandonment. Spinning out one last time, Libby is at the center of the dancing circle, no partner, but with others whose direction she follows. With the tempo infecting her veins, Libby smiles and laughs and even flutters her eyes shut as she now effortlessly spins herself with the others her feet tapping to the beat.

Then just as she opens her eyes, she reaches out a hand and it's grasped by, to her surprise, Farkas and just as they sweep into one another, but song ends with a final clasp of the instruments. The crowd cheers and claps, and the two girls stare at one another, their eyes locked. The smile on Farkas' face makes Libby nearly want to laugh and embrace the man, but it slowly goes away as she looks around at the crowd slowly diminishing.

Realizing they are near chest to chest, the two release one another and share an awkward laugh.

Farkas can't help but smile at how, normal Libby looks now. Dressed out of her assassin garb, now in a tunic and pants like a normal citizen, and smiling, and . . . well, was laughing. A different group of musicians has started a different tune and citizens cheer loudly. Looking to the assassin, the Companion smiles.

"Come on. The night is still young." Libby excitedly skips a little and pulls the Companion with her.

* * *

Diamond sits at the table she has been sitting at for most of the night, sipping on what is her third cup of ale. It tasted exquisite, her remembering Torvar saying how it was imported all the way from the Imperial City. She take another bitter sip as she watches Libby dancing with the princess.

Farkas and Torvar have joined in the dancing, though Torvar will soon be kicked as he keeps tripping and is constantly out of rhythm with the rest of the crowd. She was about to join in herself, that is until Libby joined in. now she wants to wait until Libby is out so that she could enjoy herself. She just didn't want Libby to be her partner in the dance, but her heart is beating fast, and her foot keeps tapping to the music.

It actually surprised Diamond at how . . . wild Libby is tonight. Both of the girls absolutely adored parties but Libby was usually a wallflower in that she was on missions for the Guild, and kept her focus on only that. Diamond would indulge in the sips of wine and wondrous dancing, but nothing like this.

Whenever things got like this, Diamond and Libby usually set off to the side to simply watch the crowd and listen to how to music practically controlled the mass with invisible fingers. Here, Libby has completely let herself loose. It's almost . . . funny. Diamond pictures Libby being strict and stiff with her Guild protocol, saying how she has to stay focused on her mission – and here, here Libby is sampling sips of wine from a shared glass, her hair is unbound and wild and she moves in the rhythm of the other youths of Whiterun. Her hands are raised high with the rest, her body jumping and moving, flipping her hair around her head in a black halo.

She is high on adrenaline and freedom and the joys of being young.

Of course, that could have something to do with her being trapped in the mines. And that's another thing that tugs at Diamond's insides. Libby was sent to Cidhna Mines, the place itself practically being a death camp. She stayed there for _three_ years, mining in the darkness, hearing the sounds of people's screams – both insane and of death, has seen blood splattered across the silver and the stones. And after her first year, she tried to escape, resulting in the most gruesome deaths and carnage to be put into the books. Even more so then the Forsworn attempted to escape, resulting in a thick bloodbath.

Diamond shivers at the thought of what Libby could've looked like: covered in blood with an insane wildness in her eyes. She probably looked no different than Diamond when they were aboard the Emperor's ship so many times ago.

And yet, she can still laugh. She can still smile. She can still . . . _live_.

As much as it pains Diamond to admit to herself, she suppose she did get the better end of the outcome when their friendship ended. While she was getting drunk off her ass and wandering around with no motivation, she still saw the city, she still mingled with people, she was still out in the world, dismissing its small things such as sunlight and the smell of fresh air.

She was out in the open world, while Libby was swallowed in darkness. Diamond dealt with hangovers while Libby dealt with whippings. Diamond dealt with stale mead while Libby dealt with starvation. Yet she can't bring herself to feel bad for it since that part of her claimed Libby deserved it for her betrayal.

Is that wrong? Is it justified for her to feel that way?

Diamond pulls her rose-pink cloak with gold embroidery tighter around her shoulders. She had taken the liberty of dressing extra nice tonight to see if she could attract attention, knowing how many men would be here tonight. It was a foolish idea, one the teenager inside herself wanted to try, but knowing nothing would really happen. At least she felt pretty. Her pale pink tunic hugged her torso in all the right places, and her pants were close-fitting. But so far, heads have turned, but no one approached her.

"If you want to go dancing that badly, just go." A voice suddenly chimes. Diamond turns in her seat and finds Vilkas approaching. He is still dressed in his armor, carrying a mug of probably ale. Though Diamond could smell some scent of berries mixed in it.

She's about to ask what he was talking about, but caught her foot tapping harder to the beat, and her fingers twitching to the tune that is being plucked by the lute player. Vilkas sits down next to her, sighing to himself.

Diamond can already tell he's had a fair amount to drink. He's slouching in his seat, and his smile is one she has seen on multiple drunks at multiple inns around Skyrim. She would've been responsible and taken the mug away from him, but she rarely ever got to see Vilkas when he wasn't gloating about beating her in sparring, or snarling at her to watch and fix her forms. This could be her only chance to see him loosened up, and possibly draw out some juicy gossip and secrets to blackmail him with later.

"I would, but I can't."

"Why?"

"I don't feel like it."

"Your hands and feet would say otherwise." Vilkas says, pointing to Diamond's still-bouncing knee. She makes herself stop, the Companion chuckling to himself.

"You seem to be in a good mood." Diamond says as she stirs her toothpick in her mug. The toothpick had some fresh fruit to accompany the sweet smelling wine, but Diamond devoured those quickly. "Trying to outmatch your brother in his skills of having fun?"

Vilkas casts a glance over to the throng of dancing people. Diamond follows, easily spotting Farkas in the crowd, dancing with Libby. He spins Libby, and she flows smoothly through the air before snapping back into his arms. Both of them smiling and laughing as the massive group of people begin to rotate in another circle.

"I can have fun too, Diamond."

"I would gladly disagree. I'm surprised to see you not close to Kodlak. Usually you're so busy brown-nosing him you don't have time for anything else." It was rude and bitter, and while a part of her didn't mean it, she was still pissed to see Libby having so much fun.

"Says the brat who won't dance because of an old friend who is actually enjoying the festival."

"Shut up, or I'll punch your teeth down your throat." She snarls.

"You're only clarifying that I'm right." Vilkas grins.

Diamond rolls her eyes, smacking her hands on the table. Her irritability is at its peak as it is. "Why don't you go dance and let me self-depress in peace?"

"Diamond," Vilkas says, his voice suddenly deeper and more focused. It surprises her. "Do you really hate her that much?"

"More than you'll ever realize." She grumbles.

"But you shouldn't let that prevent you from enjoying yourself. You're so bundled up in your hatred for her, you're not even letting yourself enjoy the fun life has to offer." Vilkas says. "You're sitting here hating her for having fun when you could be out there relishing yourself just as much."

"Oh, so now you're an expert on friendship? You don't know what she did to me!" Diamond shouts, thankful that the thundering music swallows her words.

"You're right," Vilkas says. "I don't, and you don't have to tell me. But I do know something terrible happened between the two of you to make you hate her so much. But you need to learn to let that stuff go. It's not healthy for you to hold onto to all of that anger."

"Yet here she is dancing and frolicking" – Diamond motions her hand to Libby who is spinning with Farkas at the middle of the circle – "like she doesn't have a care in the world, like she doesn't even care that she had betrayed me!" Diamond clamps her mouth shut too late as the words leave it. Only Kodlak knows of Diamond's past. And he knew everything. And she didn't plan on telling anyone else about it, but she's just so pissed and slightly drunk that her cares are faltering.

"It probably did hurt her." Vilkas says, his voice calm and clear over the music. "But she has moved on. Not to say that she didn't care, but she knows that you can't change the past. You can only look towards the future. Holding onto that anger, it's like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die."

Diamond clicks her tongue in annoyance and waves Vilkas off, signaling to him that she's had enough about hearing how wrong she is. "Go get yourself another mug and leave me be. You've ruined my night as it is."

Vilkas sighs, shaking his head. She wanted to cry. Here she was thinking she was justified, and yet everyone is telling her that's she's not allowed to be angry? What kind of bullshit is that? But she is probably even more pissed off because a part of her knew Vilkas is right. She shouldn't let her anger towards Libby deprive her of having fun. She just doesn't want to have it with Libby.

Vilkas gets up from the table, leaving his mug behind. Diamond keeps her stare at the throng of people, seeing Libby's hair shining like a black beacon as she whips her head here and there. But then –

"Dance with me," Vilkas says, and holds out his hand.

Diamond stares at his outstretched hand. "What?"

The moonlight catches in his brown eyes, setting them shining. "What didn't you understand?"

Nothing. Everything. Because when he said it, it hadn't been the way other men had invited her to dance. Those were merely invitations, or the doorway to what they thought would be a midnight score. But this . . . his hand remains reaching towards her.

"As far as I remember," she says lifting her chin. "you said it was stupid to be dancing with a whelp, and that we needed to be focused on training."

"But you're not a whelp anymore. Things are different now." Again, another layered statement that she can't even begin to process.

Her throat tightens, and she looks at his extended hand, flecked with calluses and scars.

"Dance with me, Diamond." Vilkas says again, his voice rough.

When her eyes find his, she forgets about Libby, and the moon, and the Gildergreen looming above them. The Silver Hand and her anger fade into nothing. She takes his hand, and there is only the music and Vilkas.

His fingers are warm, even through his gloves. He slides his other hand around her waist as Diamond braces one of hers on his arm. She looks up at him when he begins to move – a slow, step then another, and another, easing into the steady rhythm of the waltz.

He stares back at her, neither of them smiling – somehow beyond smiling at that moment. The waltz builds, louder, faster, and Vilkas steers her into it, never stumbling.

Diamond's breathing turns uneven, but she can't look away from him, can't stop dancing. The moonlight and the Gildergreen and the golden glow from the lanterns blur together, now miles way. "Do you think we could ever make amends?" she manages to ask.

"Yes," be breathes, eyes blazing. "I do."

And then the music explodes around them, and Vilkas takes Diamond with it, spinning her so that her cloak fans out around her. Each step is flawless, lethal, like that first time they'd sparred together so many months ago. She holds her the edge of her cloak in one hand as if it is the skirts of a ball gown. She knew his every move and he knew hers, as though they'd been dancing this waltz together all their lives. Faster, never faltering, never breaking her stare.

The rest of the world quiets into nothing. In that moment, after she thought she finally had Vilkas figured out, she sees something inside him that almost feels like home.

* * *

Libby dances and dances. The beautiful youths of the festival have gathered near the square where the musicians have officially posted themselves and the crowd gravitates towards them. Bottles of sparkling wine passed from hand to hand, mouth to mouth. Libby swigged from all of them.

Around midnight, the music had pulled in almost all of the festivals goers; becoming a frenzied, sensual sound that had everyone clapping her hands and stomping her feet in time. People stood scattered throughout the square dressed like peacocks and jesters, demons, and queens. There are feather masks and silk masks, glittering gowns with belled sleeves, top hats and long cloaks. All of her cares seemed to have dissipated through the combination of wine and atmosphere, lost in the throng of young people spinning and flinging and hopping about. The movement itself embodying wildness and recklessness and immortality of youth.

Brynjolf hasn't shown his face since, and neither has Prince Joric despite the other members of royalty she had managed to notice. Good. She doesn't want this night to end. For once, she will drown herself into the feeling, the excitement, the craze of the night. The tiles of the gleaming mosaic beneath her feet sparkles like stars. Here, reality doesn't exist, it's just lights and music and the howls of ecstasy.

Sweat runs along every part of her body, but she tips her head back, arms upraised, content to bask in the music. Someone takes her hand and spins her fast enough her cloak blooms out like a skirt and everything blurs into streams of colors. The sensation sends sparks shooting through her. This is more than a party: it is a performance, an orgy, and a collaboration of cultures until they are unified into one single entity. Cultures have become one on this night.

The music shifts again, a riot of pounding drums and the staccato notes of the violins. Nassari is not too far from her, her bouncing braids shining like a beacon under the lights. Many of the festival goers stay either outside watching, or simply occupy other areas of the districts, leaving the dancefloor to the young and beautiful.

The clock tower overlooking the citizens and the city strikes three – three! How had so many hours pass? A flicker of movement in the crowd catches her attention. A man stands there, stiff as a board at the center of the crowd, a dark mask covering his eyes, but accentuating their color of ember-gold. Within the mix of dark and light his fine outfit stood out. Within the smell of sweat and body odor, his cologne infected her nose.

Their eyes meet from across the room. Gods above, even with the mask obscuring half of his features, she could tell he was handsome. She would've approached if it not for the odd feeling he emanated. He just stood there, stiff in the crowd of dancers. No one bumped him, no one disturbed him. Then, his lips part into a grin as he stalks towards her. Libby still dances as she watched him, a small quiet part of her mind, tucked far, far back warned her to move. But apart from Nassari being close by, she didn't want to move.

Libby gives him a smile, then deliberately turns back towards the huddle of musicians, her dancing a little more inviting. She finds Nassari grinning at her and Libby shrugs.

It took the masked stranger a few minutes – and a knowing smile, before she feels a hand slide around her waist.

"Hello beautiful." He whispers into her ear. Libby twists to see ember eyes staring at her. A part of her was surprised she had actually lured him in. She didn't think he would fall for it. "Are you here alone?"

She sways to the music. "I might, I might not be. I like to do what I want."

His smile grew. She wanted to remove the mask, and yet, the air of mystery made him much more attractive to her – having spent the majority of her own life behind a wall of plastic and paint. Her muffled warning bells are ringing in her head. Usually nobles who were out this late weren't out for innocent purposes. It's amazing how little you care about other people when you can live behind a wall of plastic or cloth. Even if it is just the size of your face.

Still – who is to say she can't have some fun too? She was told to live a little. "What's your name?" he asks above the roar of the music.

Libby leans closer. "I am Wind." She whispers. "I am Rain. I am Bone and Dust and Darkness. My name is a snippet of a half-forgotten song."

He chuckles, a low, delightful sound. She is drunk, and sill, and so full of glory of bring young and alive and in the capital of the world that she can hardly contain herself.

"I have no name," she purrs, closer to his ear. "I am the wraith that moves in the mist. Unseen and unheard."

The masked stranger leans closer, his hands traveling to enclose around her waist. "Then tonight, let me call you, Mine."

Libby grins, but then someone bumps into the man from behind. He doesn't sway, stiff as a wall and slowly emerging from behind. Libby's blood runs cold and her eyes widen.

Farkas – his face stern even as he rips the stranger's hand from her waist. "She is not your concern." He growls, all too close the man's masked face.

The young man looks Farkas up and down, then holds up his hands. "My mistake." He says, but winks at Libby before he disappears into the crowd.

Libby whirls to her uncle. "What the hell was that for?!"

"You are drunk. And he knew it too." Farkas says.

"So?" Someone dancing widely bumps into her and sends her reeling. Farkas catches her, taking Libby's hand while his other takes place at her waist. The two of them begin to rock back and forth, as if in a slow waltz. Libby's heart is desperately aching to get back into the high-speed rhythm of the music, but she can't find the strength to push away from him.

"I think you might've had enough fun for tonight."

"How do you know? And why do you care?"

"Let me take you home." Farkas says calmly. She knew he disapproved of her tonight. Brynjolf might too; he had spent years training her to avoid being one of those girls, and yet here she is now, drunk off her mind and sweating like a pig.

But the music is still infecting her, addicting as the adrenaline through her. "No." she snapped. "I'll go home when I feel like it. I don't need an escort." This time she slipped out of his grasp, bumping her elbow into the man behind her. The man apologizes and continues dancing. Libby can smell Farkas' body, he wasn't even sweaty in the slightest. "Besides, I deserve to have fun tonight," she said, unable to stop her words the childish behavior as she complains. "I never get to have any fun! I'm always training and running and stabbing and jumping. I just want this one night to feel like a normal girl."

Farkas' expression softens and she see the grunt he does as his throat bobs. "Libby . . ."

His soft tone made her anger stumble. Libby swallows, her head spinning. She approaches him again and this time rests her head into his chest. She would've wiped her face, but didn't want to ruin the cosmetics.

She feels her Farkas' arms wrap around her, feels his cheek rest against her hair. After a couple of deep breaths, he pulls away and simply stares at her.

Bringing up his hand, Libby closes her eyes briefly as he cups her cheek, caressing her cheekbone with his callus fingers. Libby studies Farkas' chiseled features, memorizes the texture of his five o'clock shadow, and imbeds the color of his eyes into mind, so that she won't forget a single ounce of him.

Then Farkas kisses her brow and gives her a smile, even though it doesn't reach his eyes. "Alright," he says softly, his voice somehow understandable through the roar of the music. She could barely hear her own thoughts. He jerks his chin towards the dancing crowd. "Go have fun."

With that, he turns and walks his way out of the crowd. Libby stares after him, nerve wrecked that he had spoken the same words as Brynjolf. Then a hand claps on her shoulder and she turns to find Nassari smiling with cheeks red and strands of her hair plastered to her forehead.

Libby smiles broadly as the princess pulls her into a circle of dancing girls, and the revelry takes hold of her once again.

* * *

Sitting on the stone railing of her balcony at her mansion, Libby watches the break of a new day. Her legs dangling off the edge, a warm cup of tea between her hands. The stone beneath her was chill, her rump growing numb, but still she sits as she watches the sun come up over the horizon, pushing away the blackness of the night.

Whiterun begins to come alive, with chimneys puffing up smoke from the first fire of the day, the clopping of carriages echoes across the cobblestone streets, the padded footsteps of a paper boy as he hurries from house to house, dogs barking off across town. Farmers holler to one another as they load up carts of sacks of flour, apples and other foods. Horses from the stables nod their heads and count their hooves.

Across town, Libby could see employees of the festival already taking down one of the many large tents. Leaning back on her hands, Libby sets aside her cup of tea, watching the thin tendril of steam waft into the open air. Yes, the festival had been delightful, and she does not regret the night one bit, even if her head did pound a little bit.

She had missed Brynjolf, though he probably expected as much, and he did say he as another couple of days before he gets back to Riften. Libby has already decided to make plans with him for the rest of today. No doubt the princess enjoyed herself as well, and is no doubt bedridden.

This – this is what she had missed while in Cidhna Mines. She had missed parties, and drinking, and laughing, and dancing. She had missed _life_.

It only makes her heavier when she thinks back to the reason of why she is even here. Her job was to kill the Companions. She had to kill every single member, leave their heads on spikes, mount them on walls – whatever Prince Joric wanted.

But now, now with each passing day, she's finding that job harder and harder. Not just because of Diamond, but because of Farkas too, and because she's growing more and more liking to the idea that she could just spend her time wasting it away and packing her things before she flees off into . . . wherever.

Away from the city, away from thieves and assassins and spoiled princes. She could just disappear, flee and vanish like she never existed. Karliah did it – and Libby is the best at what she does. They could never find her. And the world has so much to offer.

But still, the idea of leaving Diamond, even the idea of leaving Farkas, is a bit . . . unbearable.

Perhaps Brynjolf can help her. Or she can just kill Joric herself along with Nox, Libby still not forgetting what she did to her why they were in Cidhna Mines.

There is still so much to do. So much to figure out; but she'll have Brynjolf with her, for now. And maybe some things will be solved, or more questions will be added. She doesn't know.

But then again, that's just another aspect of life.

Behind her, the gold tiled spires of Dragonsreach gleam from dew. Libby rotates her legs inwards and hops off the balcony railing. She takes her cup and walks back inside. With one look back towards the capital, Libby closes her doors soundlessly.


	23. Chapter 22

Libby struggles to keep from preening herself as her servants finish adjusting her hair. She allowed them to dabble her face with some light makeup, and smiled as they put in some pearl hairpins to secure her coronet.

"Alright child, stand up." Sazami says and Libby does, carefully stepping around the upholstered seat to gaze at herself in the mirror. Libby's smile widens as she beholds herself.

While she didn't need to dress up for Brynjolf, she wanted to at least look presentable – writhing happily in her luxuries since Brynjolf is probably still picturing her as a dirtied, insane slave of Cidhna Mines.

Her servants had managed to find a delicate blue gown with blooming skirts layered with silk and chiffon patterned in gold whorls twining like vines. Its crystal bolero necklace has delicate lace detailing and lots of sparkle, with draping detailing on the shoulders ending in a low dip at the back, stopping just at the bottom of her spine. A part of her felt self-conscious since it revealed her scarred back, but she wanted Brynjolf to see what she had endured.

She had found a note on her desk this morning when she awoke after the party, Brynjolf saying he wanted to meet in the public. It was odd, considering they could talk openly when dining at her mansion. And if they are going to discuss the matters of Erelia and her possible connection to Nassari, it was of an even bigger risk to be in the public about it. It was suspicious, but perhaps that meant that the others would be there . . .? Karliah. Vex. Cynric. Rune. How she missed them all.

As a precaution, she has two freshly sharpened daggers strapped to her legs, and another on her right arm, hidden by the loose belled sleeves of her gown. She steps into her opal colored slippers, lifting her arms as Sazami finishes adjusting her skirts. Brynjolf had said he would pick her up, and Libby feels her stomach twisting from the anticipation as she looks out her window.

"You look beautiful as ever, child." Sazami purrs.

"Thank you."

Sazami stands, her feline lips pursing as she circles Libby to ensure everything is looking smoothly. "You sound troubled, child. Is the dress too tight?"

"No, it's not that." Libby says, lowering her stare to her slippers.

"Would you like a cloak?" Sazami asks, Libby's back shivering at the words as her scars feel more prominent.

"No," Libby softly denies.

Sazami sighs and rounds to Libby's front, lifting her chin with her soft, furry hands. "What troubles you, child?"

Libby blinks. Then blinks again. Her eyebrows furrow and a sad frown lowers her lips. She sits back down on the seat, folding her hands in her lap. "I guess I'm just, nervous. But that can't be possible. Why would I be nervous for Brynjolf?"

"You haven't seen him for some time, perhaps it is just masked excitement." Sazami suggest, leaning against the vanity and folding her arms. Her homespun dress looked comfier than Libby's.

She shakes her head slowly, her nose suddenly growing congested. She sniffs and she hears Sazami shift from the vanity. "They knew what had happened to me. They knew where I was, what I was going to face." Libby swallows thickly. "Why didn't they help me?"

She looks up to Sazami, whose eyes are gleaming, her ears falling backwards.

"Why did they leave me there?" her voices hitches, her eyes water and her chest compresses from a sob. "But, I guess I deserve it."

Sazami is immediately there, quietly cooing the assassin and wiping her tears before they fall and smear the cosmetics. "Shh, there, there sweetheart." Sazami kneels before the assassin, her soft, furry fingers stroking her cheek. "I'm afraid I cannot answer for them. But I can say, that they don't deserve you."

Libby looks up, sniffling and controlling her breathing.

"Through what you have endured, your heart still remains pure. It beats like the thunder of a storm: strong, absolute, bearing. You might bend until you break, but you get mad, then you get strong. And then you stand." Her claw delicately tucks a couple loose strands behind Libby's hair, which is growing faster than even she had thought. It's at least in between her shoulder blades now. "I have never met someone with a spirit such as yours, and I personally think that it's the reason why Her Highness is so drawn to you."

The assassin carefully wipes the corner of her eyes.

"Seeing you walking around with her, seeing your friendship blooming so fast – you two give me hope. Hope in that you will prove to the rest of Skyrim that we are not just thieves and crooks. Your kindness comes once in many moons."

"I don't understand how you can say all that. Even after everything I have done, to people of all kinds." Libby whimpers.

Sazami takes Libby's hands. "Your mind might be corrupt, but your heart is still pure. You could've let the mines harden it, but I can still sense the warmth of its glow. You mustn't let that light go out, child; for it is that light that will give Skyrim its peace."

Libby looks to her housemaid, sniffling, and gives a small smile. She wipes her nose with the back of her hand, of which Sazami hands her a tissue. There's a knock at her bedroom door, and Sazami rises, wiping her palms on her apron. The doors open and a golden-haired head pop in. She smiles and says, "Your escort is here, My Lady."

"Thank you," Libby nods. She rises from her seat as the door closes.

"Gods help me," Sazami hisses. "Now we have to patch up your face. I swear you aren't easy."

Libby giggles as she wipes the corner of her eyes. "I'm a girl. We are emotional."

Sazami chuckles, and carefully touches up Libby's face, covering her redness with a soft tipped brush.

After touching up her face, Libby hurries down the steps to her cavernous entryway. There she finds Brynjolf standing there, hands casually behind his back, admiring the décor. His eyes find her immediately and she smiles as she drops her skirts at the final step. Her shoes click and Brynjolf approaches her, hands extended out. Libby opens up her arms and wraps them around him when they reach each other. His arms twine around her torso, Libby stiffening slightly as his fingers bump along her scars. His arm pauses, but it's only for a second.

To feel him in her arms, to feel his familiar scent permeating her senses, she would've let herself cry, it not for the cosmetics Sazami just touched up. This, this time it truly feels like they've reunited. Without the crowds and the eyes of the princess, Libby hugs Brynjolf tighter, feeling his hair tickle her cheeks.

"I've missed you so much." Libby mumbles into his shoulder.

"As have I, lass."

He pulls back and his hand comes up to caress Libby's cheek. His thumb strokes her skin and his other hand slides down to her own, clasping her fingers.

"I must admit, it's amazing to see you like this after so many months." He says. Libby presses her cheek into his hand; his callus sending a comforting feeling through her heart. "Come," he says, extending his arm to her. "We have much to discuss."

Her servants drape her cloak around her shoulders, and Libby secure her coin purse to her waist. She takes Brynjolf's arm, and rests her head against his shoulder as they leave, and step into the carriage.

They don't talk much in the carriage ride, Libby simply reveling in his company. Feeling his arm again, his cologne wafting around her. When they arrive, he steps out and holds the door open for her, helping her step out.

They link arms again as they approach the Deep Blue – the tea court where only the most elite and most important nobles and patronesses dined. As usual, there is a crowd gathered outside, fine carriages loitering the streets with people hopping in and out. The doors are under an archway of stone and glass, with a large viewing window to show off the exquisite chandelier dangling from inside. Green vines and flowers wrap around the thick columns supporting the awning above.

Entry to Deep Blue requires a hard-to-attain membership; Libby feeling more than spoiled as she walks in with Brynjolf linked arm in arm.

Sticking by their name, the Deep Blue's interior follows that of an ocean theme. Once past the stone-and-glass doors, immediately you are greeted with an entryway with stringed seashells dangling on either side of the walls, and then the room opens up to the dining area where there are circular tables covered with elegant white cloths with detailed designs of ocean waves along the hemlines. They are scattered throughout the room in a tasteful fashion and with enough space that a person won't bump into the seat of another when shimming through. Small round vases filled with baby's breath act as the centerpieces, the chairs are covered with the same cloth, tied with a gold ribbon around the back.

The ceiling is vaulted and high, the entire chamber a fair aqua-blue, making it appear lighter. While the largest pearl and crystal chandelier takes up the epicenter of the ceiling, the smaller chandeliers around it are designed like jellyfish as they are translucent, circular and their tentacles are actually beaded pearls that dangle and glints in the light. Smaller lights that look like stars are scattered all throughout the ceiling, and white pergolas line the walls, sheltering tables and trellises with vines crawling up them have pink lily flowers blooming. Painted tendrils of coral twine and dance their way up the walls, and a small set of musicians dressed in blue play mystical music that mimics that of an underwater kingdom. The pan flute being the loudest is accompanied with soft taps of a bongo drum and the delicate plucking of violin and the glissando of harp strings.

A large fish tank occupies the far back left corner, inside the bar area, and another set behind a velvet bench for waiting customers. Libby acted like a youngling when he gazed at the many colorful fishes swimming around. Kiros even pointed out a few of the species that were from the Summerset Isles.

Over on the right hand side, there is a set of double white doors leading to the balcony, harboring a more private area with more tables and white lights along the eggshell colored wooden railing.

With the court just opening, it is now practically empty except for a few lucky souls who had scheduled a later time. The hostess beamed when Libby came walking in, and escorted her and Brynjolf towards the back room, a secluded area where Libby had dealt with much of her dealings with clients.

Their table was set with nearly one of everything on the menu. So there are large platters of other seafood and crustaceans and fish all each grilled, fried dipped seasoned and ready to be eaten. But still the waiter had given them a menu.

Once they are left alone with nothing but the muffled music coming from the main chamber, Brynjolf sets aside his menu and folds his hands. "As much as I would love to hug and hold you all day, lass, we do have something to discuss."

"Where do I start?" Libby says sadly as she lowers her menu. She knew what she wanted, she always order the same thing whenever she comes here. She just wanted to hold the menu to hide her face as she tried to organize her thoughts.

Brynjolf leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. "How about what had happened when you were taken from me?"

Libby looks to him, seeing his blue eyes again made her want to just go home and cuddle in his arms like a little child again. She folds her hands in her lap, nervously rubbing the fabric of her skirts between her fingers. She exhales heavily, her heart thundering.

"It's simple. The bitch just didn't want to "share her things."" Libby almost snarls. Thinking of Zusa and everything she had done, it's enough to make her anger hot enough to set everything on fire. "That day I had planned to visit her, I had three trunks of gold that was more than enough to pay her back and free myself from her debt. But even when I had presented her the gold, even after I had told her that I am done working for her, she had her assassins attack me and ship me out to Cidhna Mines."

"Didn't you put up a fight?"

Libby coldly chuckles and grins. "Oh, I did. I tore down anyone who dared approached me. I leveled her numbers in a matter of minutes." She closes her eyes, remembering her own scream that ripped from her throat, remembering the blood that _soaked_ her clothes and her blades, remembering that ancient, powerful feeling that had erupted in her stomach. "It all happened so quickly. The days before I left, it's all a blur. I only remember bits and pieces of it; like looking through a window and seeing a different scene each time."

"I knew you would be gone, we all did after you confessed to us." Brynjolf says, keeping his tone quiet even though they are alone in the room. "And we knew what could've happened, I guess we just –"

"Don't blame yourself, Brynjolf. I insisted I go alone. I knew what could've happened as well, and I didn't want any of you there. In case things got bad." Libby fills her plate with a grilled shrimp scampi sprinkled with basil, of which she digs into the moment it had finished filling her plate.

"I just feel ashamed that we didn't do anything after we found out what happened to you." Brynjolf says, his fingers tap the side of his glass of wine. The finest wine money can buy, curtesy of Libby. "Since you don't remember, I'll you. You were gone for at least four days after you went to see Zusa. We had assumed you were out doing . . . something, I don't know. It was only after Vex came barging into the Flagon did we –"

Brynjolf's voice hitches and Libby looks up from her plate and sees him struggling to suppress a sob. The image before her is so shocking that she lowers her fork, her heart hammering. Brynjolf sniffles, a couple of tears managing to escape his tightly squeezed eyes.

"After she came in," he continues, his voice breaking as sobs fight in his throat. "after she had told us what happened, I – all I remember was my feet running, faster than I ever have before. I remember climbing up, and up, and up until I was at the top of Mistveil Keep. And then, I see the wagon . . . passing by the city."

More tears escape from his eyes, and Libby sets her hand on his, their fingers twining together. She gives him a reassuring squeeze and Brynjolf's shoulders shudder as he lets a couple more sobs loose.

"And I just – I collapsed. I just remember falling back on my ass, and – and I just watched it go by. I didn't try to stop it, I didn't even try. I don't know what came over me, but I just couldn't move. And then, I just remember it getting dark, then Vex escorting me back, and then, I just –" Brynjolf sets the heel of his other hand against his forehead. "Lass, I'm sorry. I should've known better. I should've tried to stop them. They were just guards, I could've beaten them. I should've slaughtered them easily –"

Libby gets up from her seat, letting go of his hand and walks her way around to his side of the table. She takes the skirts of her dress and blooms them around her as she kneels in front of Brynjolf. She sets her hands on his own, then picks them up and brings them to her lips. His skin is scarred, she can feel it on her lips. Tears are streaming, her care for her makeup out the window.

Brynjolf haunches over and gathers Libby in an embrace. She holds his shoulders as his fingers entangle into her hair. The two of them cry together, Brynjolf muffling sobs into her shoulders, his body shaking. Libby rests her forehead against his shoulder, kissing his cheek as he calms down.

"There's nothing you could've done." Libby whispers. "Zusa was too powerful, too influential. She would've had you killed before you knew it. It was better that way."

This time Libby pulls back and wipes Brynjolf's cheeks with her knuckles. She stands up and kisses his forehead, letting him bury into her chest as she holds him. When his hands feel her back, she stiffens and her breath shakes when Brynjolf takes her hand and makes to turn her around. She follows his lead, trying her best to stay controlled as she hears him exhale heavily.

She feels his fingertips start at the top by her right shoulder, then slowly trace to her left, his touch as light as a moth's wings. Slowly they trail down her back going to the more severe area where the whip made its most hits.

Unable to take his touch, she steps away and turns around. Brynjolf lowers his head, shaking it before thumping his fist against the table rattling its contents. "You always were like a daughter to me and to see something like this happen to you . . ."

Libby sets her hand on his shoulder and says, "I'm afraid that's just the tip of the iceberg. There is still more we need to discuss."

Brynjolf wipes his eyes and sighs. "Well then, tell me all about it."

Libby moves her chair so that she is right by his side. She moves her things as well and gets herself comfortable. She tells Brynjolf about Prince Joric and his proposal to eliminate the Companions in exchange for her freedom. She tells him about how she had to become the Champion of Boethiah while still appeasing Nocturnal just to get a better edge on them since her body was still recovering from the mines. She tells Brynjolf about how she had found Diamond was in the Companions and has since left her bloodied past behind, then she tells him about how their Harbinger came to her and offered her a place among the Companions without a clear reason.

Brynjolf never interrupts her once, not even as he fills his plate with food. During a brief pause, he asks her if she wants anything, but after finishing her own meal, Libby wasn't that hungry, even if the scent of the grilled salmon smelled intoxicating. He had told her about how to rampage through the mines had reached all four corners of Skyrim, making them even more afraid of her than before. His hand holds hers, never letting go, offering comfort rubs of the thumb whenever Libby got to a difficult subject.

She talk about her befriending the Princess of Elsweyr, and on how it's getting more and more difficult to fulfill her contract. She even confesses how frightened she is on turning down Prince Joric in fear he will throw her back into Cidhna Mines to finish out the rest of her sentence that Zusa proclaimed.

Finally she draws the conclusion about how she had overheard Diamond and the Companions talking about rumors surrounding the lost heir of the Snow Elves, and how she plans to scope out the Hold for any information.

Brynjolf takes a sip from his second glass of wine, and hums in thought. Libby sits there, a dessert plate empty of the chocolate cake it had, fiddling with her napkin.

"Well, you've certainly gotten yourself in a knack of trouble." Brynjolf says.

Libby gives a sad smile and a shrug of her shoulders. "It's what I do best. And with this contract, it's getting harder and harder as I live more with the Companions. Some of them might not like me still, but others . . ." She can see Farkas holding her in her living room, still feel his fingers from where they traced along her back. Libby shakes her head. "And I don't know how I can get any information on Erelia without stirring up trouble."

"If you go as Libby you should be able to get more accurate information."

"But it could also arise a visit from Prince Joric."

"You're not scared of him, are you?"

"Yes, and no." Libby sighs. "I could kill him easily, and his Captain of the Morthal Guard isn't much of a challenge either, and I'm even content if I have to cut my hair, change my name, and move out of Skyrim . . . but at the same time, he's the one who holds my freedom. And if I leave, I'd be leaving Diamond, again."

"How is the lass?" Brynjolf asks, taking one of the fried shrimp puffs set before him, he dips it in a creamy white sauce and envelopes it into his mouth.

"She's great." Libby says with dejection. "She seems happy."

"Why do you say it like that?"

Libby's shoulders sag. She turns to look out to the city. The gold-tiled roofs now sprinkled with leaves and the people walking by in the streets makes everything seem so . . . normal. "Because I miss her. I really do." She folds her lips in. "I haven't tried apologizing to her though, because I know she won't listen, or believe me – not that I don't blame her. She just, stares at me with this massive detestation, and while I know our battles haven't helped, I just, I don't know what to do."

"I don't have any easy answers, lass," Brynjolf says, setting his hand on her skirt where her knee is. "I wish I could help, but you know her better than I do."

Libby just shrugs her shoulders and shakes her head. She inhales through her nose, then out through her nose. "So, what's this about Princess Nassari and her connections to Erelia?"

Brynjolf leans back in his seat and sets his elbow on the table. "Well, from what I heard, she came to Skyrim _because_ of rumors of Erelia. It's true she wants to free her people from the Dominion, but since there's rumors of Erelia – the only person who is capable of rising an army against the Nords, I heard the princess wants to form an alliance with her to take down Ulfric Stormcloak. Can you not see the trouble of having a Khajiit princess on Nord soil _and_ in an Imperial Province?"

"I do," Libby says, a sickly feeling making her stomach ache. "but what can I do? I'm not just going to ask her straight away, it would be rude despite my plans to find out about those supposed rebels."

"I just want you to be prepared. It doesn't hurt to know as much as you can."

"I don't suppose you have any leads." Libby asks as she leans forward, stirring the ice with of her drink with her straw. "How do these people even know about Erelia when she's supposed to be dead?"

Brynjolf stares at her for a long moment, making Libby's throat tight, and she takes a long gulp of her water. "I doubt they've actually seen the heir to the throne, but I assume it starts from scholars doing research on the Snow Elves and looking back at the records and the leaving of the bodies – it's all rather complicated."

"Well, I need to focus on those rebel groups and how they know about her." Libby says as she diverts her gaze. "I'm assuming the Nords aren't happy."

Brynjolf cocks his head and gives a small nod. "They are . . . more cautious than they were before. But I don't think they're taking it seriously yet."

"As they shouldn't." Libby sharply says. "Erelia Glendeylin is dead. And I doubt she wants to make an appearance with this putrid war going on. Even if the Snow Elven kind returns, it'll just start up another war."

Brynjolf just stares at her again, to the point that Libby shifts uncomfortably in her seat, but she puts passion into her stare. The redheaded Nord shakes his head and sighs. "Well, whatever you want lass, it's your decision. But it is good to have you back."

"You think I can pay a visit to the Guild? If I'm still welcome?"

"Of course you're still welcome. Your position hasn't changed." Brynjolf smiles.

"How's Karliah?"

"She's been paying more visits to the Guild since your imprisonment. It wasn't too out of the ordinary for her, but it was still odd. Though I can understand."

Libby can understand too. More than Brynjolf ever could. Karliah was practically her mother after her true one had died. Both Libby and her father Gallus loved Karliah, and she loved them like they were their own family. It was the only time Libby thought she had a family again, until Mercer came in and murdered her father.

Karliah might've been just as devastated at Brynjolf, perhaps even more. She had lost both Libby and her father; and with the memory and pain of her father's death still fresh in Karliah's mind, finding out Libby was sent to Cidhna Mines, a practical death camp, Libby is surprised to hear Karliah even bothered to leave Nightingale Hall. But it fills her heart with calm to hear she handled things well.

She has to visit them. She has to, even if Joric finds it suspicious, even if he gives her a lecture on how she should be killing the Companions, it'll all be worth it when she sees the faces of her Guild members again.

"Listen Libby," Brynjolf says, putting his hand over hers. "Now that you're out, I want you to know that the Guild has been more than prosperous over the years. And if you need to, because you're also Guild Master, you can take as much coin as you need to pay off the Prince of Morthal."

Libby looks to him, shocked, her eyes widening slightly, her eyebrows narrowing. "No, no I can't do that."

"Of course you can."

"But what about –"

"Don't worry about the money for your adoption. It's _been_ paid off for a while now."

Puzzlement but shock swirls in her chest. "For how long?"

"Months after you were imprisoned. It's done." He says a small laugh, almost a laugh of insanity and disbelief. "It's done."

Libby can't stop herself as she launches herself into back his arms again, breaths of laughter and sobs escaping her lips. If her payment to Zusa is done, Libby doesn't care what the hell she does with it. Next to her own payment for Zusa's providence, her adoption was the second debt thing she needed to repay to the bitch. With that gone, and Brynjolf giving her privilege to take money from the Guild – the fact that the Guild is beyond financially stable –

Libby can't help herself – she cries.

It can happen. She really can be free. From how Brynjolf said it, they'll be able to match any price that Prince Joric asks, but if he decides to retaliate . . . No, anyone can be bought, even the royal guards. Nox, probably not, but Libby would deal with her personally. Whatever kind feelings the captain had shown to her, Libby doesn't doubt they each forgot about it by now. Who knows, maybe she'll even betray Joric for a better life. A warrior of her standards does deserve better, if Libby is being honest.

Hugging Brynjolf, putting every fiber of her love into this embrace, Libby can't help but cry.

And as Brynjolf pulls away chucking, as he wipes away her tears and smears her mascara, Libby laughs too.

Because for the first time in forever, she actually feels hope crack through the darkness and silence in her heart, and embraces the light she feels flooding forth.

* * *

Diamond happily trots her way up the steps of Jorrvaskr, the small sack belted to her waist swings with each step. She carefully holds it, not wanting the fragments off Wuuthrad to break any further.

Aela had assigned her a couple more spots of where the Silver Hand have been hiding, and each time she fights, Diamond revels in the joy that burst through her. She feels like a real Companion again! They've got the bastards on their heels now; enough that they've been drawn into hiding, as Aela had last said.

While it still pains her to be keeping this all from Kodlak, they need to pay for what they did to Skjor. Days have passed since they buried him, and Diamond had rarely seen Diamond around the hall, not that she's complaining. Though she has to wonder where she went, possibly planning her next assassination? At least she's out of Diamond's hair – she's felt her pride becoming stronger with each Silver Hand she slays.

This time when Diamond barged into their hideout, they really did tremble in her sight. It made spilling their blood all the more enjoyable. She had gotten a blackened eye and sore ribs, but it was merely like the bite of a flea. The bodies trailing in her wake, the blood spotting her knuckles and her cheeks, it was as intoxicating as it was when she was an assassin.

She walks through the front doors of the mead hall, finding Aela seated at the table where she has been, waiting for Diamond to come home. Diamond skips down the steps, setting the sack on the table in front of Aela. The Huntress gazes at the sack, then to Diamond, and a fiendish smile crawls on her lips.

"Well done Shield-Sister," Alea says as she rummages through the sack and pulls out a fragment of Wuuthrad. "Looks like you've really been bringing the fight to them. Keep this up, and we'll wipe them out yet."

As Aela takes the burlap sack and sets it under the table, Diamond unsheathes her warhammer and takes a seat. "So, any other news so far? This is the only kind of work I actually enjoyed." She smiles.

"Oh don't you worry. There is more work to be done, but I fear that Kodlak has gotten wind of our recent efforts." Says the Huntress.

Diamond feels the whole world knocked out from under her. Her blood runs cold and her limbs grow numb.

"He's asked to see you."

Diamond's arms become heavy and she forgets all about her aching feet and throbbing cheek. She can't breathe. Nauseated, she looks to the fire. Its warmth is overbearing, hovering around her like a thick cloud ready to suffocate her. She didn't want to be here. She feels like fainting.

"Why didn't you tell me about this sooner?!"

"He had only approached me this morning. And you were already gone with your assignments. Not like I could sprint down towards the front gates in time to catch you."

Diamond has a terrible headache around her left temple. Everything is sickly and frail. Aela looks to her, worry slowly etching her features. "You're pale."

"W-what do I say to him?" Diamond stutters. Gods, her hands are shaking and she can feel her cheeks grow cold.

It's not that she fears Kodlak, not like the way she had feared Zusa; it's just that she's afraid to confront him. He wouldn't approve of what she and Aela were doing, and Diamond knew that. It's just – apart from Skjor's passing, her life has almost been like a complete hell since Libby's arrival. To be going back and doing things that she has deemed normal for the Companions, it's rejuvenating.

"Honestly, always be open with the old man. But don't tell him anything he doesn't need to know." Aela says. She sets her hand over Diamond's, patting it comfortingly. "You'll be fine Diamond. He loves you, you know that."

The blonde Companion simply nods as she forces herself to rise from her seat. She slings her warhammer over her back again, letting its metallic touch cool her body. She feels Aela's fingers brush her in encouragement as she heads down to the living quarters.

She's walking down the straight narrow hall, wringing the leather strap holding her hammer as she approaches. But then a feminine laugh catches her ear.

"It was my mother's special recipe. Of course, she uses flowers that I could only get from Morrowind. So I only try to use it for special occasions." a voice giggles. Diamond's heart thumps when she realizes its Libby.

She carefully angles her around the doorway and finds the assassin sitting with her Harbinger at his usual table, sharing a slice of apple pie, and cups of tea in front of them. Libby is dressed in a lovely gown of opal, its long translucent sleeves bloom out loosely as they pass her elbow. It's a relatively clear dress, free of sequence and jewels – and if Diamond had to admit, the simplicity of the dress made Libby look even more stunning as her hair is set into natural waves around her head. Its long, chiffon pleated skirt puddles at her feet.

Kodlak smiles to her as he takes a sip, Libby smiling back. "Well, it's certainly the best brew that I have had in a long while."

Libby shrugs, taking another scoop of her slice of pie. She chews and wipes her fingers on a napkin. What was she doing here? And what were they talking about?!

"Well, I guess it's good to hear you've paid yourself off, Libby. It's so, joyous to have you in such a good mood."

Libby's smile falters, still there, but sadness slowly creeping across. "It feels like it has been forever since I felt this . . . happy. I wish it would last forever."

"Who says it can't?"

"Fate. The Divines. I'm always afraid to be happy, because I know something bad will happen to take it all away." Libby sighs.

"How could you know that?" Kodlak asks as he sips his tea.

"Because it's happened before." Is all that Libby answers. As she lifts her cup, she asks, "Why did you join the Companions?"

Kodlka gives her that smile that always makes him look like a father or grandfather. A smile that is full of love and compassion and understanding. He inhales through his nose, tapping his fingers on the table.

"Like most of our band, I found this family after losing my own. I traveled the length and breadth of this land, learning all I could of the sword and the axe. I was just a boy, but I had the fire of a man in my heart."

When Libby smiles, it's almost as if she understands. In a way, she could. Libby had lost both her parents at a young age. Diamond knew Mercer Frey – the former Guild Master – had killed her father, but she never knew what had befallen Libby's mother. It was always too painful for Libby to ever explain it. And what does Kodlak mean by "paid herself off?"

"Eventually, my body caught up with my spirit. My predecessor, Askar, found me in Hammerfell. I was working as a bodyguard for some weak-neck lord out there. He brought me back here . . . and I realized, that I was actually coming home."

Kodlak's head angles up, his eyes growing distant as if he can see the images of his life right before him. And Libby – Libby respectfully keeps her eyes on him, actually intrigued. She leans forward, resting her elbows on the table.

"I work to bring honor to this family, and to the family that I lost. For my mother, my father and my grandfather. And for all my Shield-Siblings." Kodlak looks to her again and gives a closed lip smile.

"Does vengeance fall under the same category as honor?" Libby asks, her emerald eyes sparkling, their ring of gold shining like its own sun. Her shoulders sag and her face show childlike despondency. Kodlak's face turns stern and he folds his hands together, tilting his head to the side. Libby looks up to him, sighs, swallows and then says, "All my life, all I've ever wanted to do was to avenge the death of my parents. I had managed to succeed with my father, but I didn't nor do I ever think I can with my mother. Not since her killer is probably long gone by now."

Diamond turns away, pressing her full body against the wall. Her heart is beating rather fast. She's never heard Libby talk about her mother before, even in the slightest of hints. She had always claimed she had faint memories, or it was just too painful to talk about. She's divided between being insulted or being surprised. Diamond can understand how she would've eventually admit something like that to Kodlak, he just has that welcoming character. Diamond almost wanted to stay to hear about Libby's mother, but on the other hand she wanted to leave, hoping Libby will talk to him long enough that she won't have to.

"You can still connect with her in reverence, Libitania. I am sorry for your loss, but remember that you can always rebuild another family."

"I can't help but feel like she would be disappointed in me, after everything I've done. She always said I never was the best at making decisions." Libby says quietly.

"We do what we have to do to survive, Libitania, you of all people should know that." Kodlak assures.

Diamond watches as Libby shifts uncomfortably in her seat. She rolls her shoulders, almost as if trying to adjust her back. Diamond immediately knew why – her back. She remembers walking in on Libby on the first day she settled into Jorrvaskr, those hideous lash marks on that dominate her back. Even Diamond has never been whipped before – she might've endured a lot of beatings, but anyone she has dared to ask, they all say that it means nothing when compared to feeling iron tipped whips lashing into your skin, into your bone.

"I'm almost afraid to do anything for her." Libby says. "I know she wouldn't approve of me. It's a miracle that I turned out decent, well as I can get, without much of a motherly role in my life. I've completely abandoned her in mind, and body, and soul."

"You could always go back; there's nothing stopping you."

"Except myself." Libby's voice hitches, sounding like it was interrupted by a sob. Diamond peers around carefully, and sees Libby holding her hand over her mouth, her eyes blinking as tears fall. Kodlak leans forward, setting his hand on her knee.

"Why would you hold back?"

Libby wipes her eyes and takes deep breathes. She clenches her jaw, and after a moment loosens her breath. "There are cells in the bowels of the mines that they use to punish slaves. Cells so dark you would wake up in them and think you've been blinded. They locked me in there sometimes – once for three weeks straight. And the only thing that got me through it was reminding myself of my name, over and over and over – _I am Libitania__Desidenius_."

Kodlak's face bears sorrow, and masked horror.

"When they would let me out, so much of my mind had shut down in the darkness that the only thing I could remember was that my name was Libitania. Libitania Desidenius, intelligent and brave and skilled, Libitania who did not know fear or despair, Libitania who was a weapon honed by Death." She runs a shaking hand through her hair. "I don't normally let myself think about that part of Cidhna Mine." She admits. "After I got out, there were nights when I would wake up and think I was back in those cells, and I would have to light every candle in my room to prove I wasn't. They don't just kill you in the mines – they break you."

Diamond's heart has practically stopped and her body has grown numb. A cruel part of thinks: _Well, you got what you wanted_. And Diamond almost smacks herself to shut that voice up. What she had wanted for Libby, what she had pictured – it's almost scary to think that it actually happened. Diamond can't even begin to imagine it; she had a hard enough time waking up in the Night Mother's coffin, and she can't even remember how long she was in there.

But what she had thought, it was merely a fantasy, an enigma of her anger created by her imagination. And where she thought there would be satisfaction and happiness, there's only sorrow and pain. Now when she imagines Libby alone in darkness, she can practically hear Libby's haggard breathing, just picture her rocking back and forth, crazily repeating her name over and over again. Her hands shaking, her entire body covered on stone dust and blood . . .

Diamond shakes her head. Remembering to keep her breathing steady. She sets her hand over her heart, confused to find it beating so fast.

"I was raised by my father, and any memory I have of my mother, it is faint – like some has smeared tar over it. Eventually I became so wrapped up in the love of my father that Libitania Desidenius became more than a name for me. It was what pushed me through those nights, it's what makes me strong. It's the name that my father had given me, the name that has made the difference between bending and breaking in the mines. My mother . . . I'm not even sure I can remember what she looks like. And it saddens me."

There's a long moment of silence before Kodlak speaks.

"How you must hate us." Kodlak then says, surprising both the assassin and the Companion. He removes his hand from her knee and leans back in his chair. "I understand why you have such ease killing our kind. And I don't blame you for it."

"Kodlak," she says gently.

"I know you will never tell me, and you don't have to, Libitania. But I know something tragic happened to you as a child. Something perhaps of the Nords doing. You have a right to hate the Nords, I find it a miracle you didn't lop off my head when we met. And I want you to know, that we are not like them. You might not believe that, but it's true. Family and honor, that's what it means to be one of us, Libby."

The assassin is silent, listening to the throbbing of her heart before she speaks. "I don't hate you." She says in a little more than a whisper. "And I _know_, you're not like them. In fact you're one of the few men that have given me hope for Skyrim and her people."

This time, Kodlak's eyebrows rise in surprise. Libby gives a shaky laugh.

"When Nassari and I were talking at the festival, she had mentioned how the courts of Skyrim weren't always like this. There was once a time that they valued honor and loyalty – when serving a ruler wasn't about obedience and fear. She had asked if another court like that could ever rise again. And I think it can. It could rise again, if we could find more men like you."

There's a wetness on her cheeks and Diamond blinks. A tear. Two tears. Was she – why was she crying?

"Thank you, Libitania." Kodlak says softly. There's the sound of a deep inhale from him, and Kodlak sighs. "Well, as much I enjoyed our time, I'm afraid I have other matters to attend to."

Diamond gulps, her heart suddenly jumping to jackrabbit speed.

"Of course." Libby submits. The sounds of her chair indicate she's getting up.

"Diamond." Kodlak calls.

Diamond can feel both her and Libby freeze in unison. She doesn't know what makes her move, but she moves around from the corner and steps into the doorway. She keeps her eyes directly onto Kodlak, though she can see Libby's pale face and wide eyes out of her peripherals.

"I'm glad you could have made it." Kodlak simply says nonchalantly. He turns to Libby, "Thank you for your time, Libitania."

There's a few seconds before Libby responds. "Y-Yes, of course."

She then rises from her seat and starts towards the door. She keeps her hands folded nervously in front of her, and she keeps her head down, her gaze to the floor. For a moment, she almost acts as if she's going to cry. And when she passes Diamond, she says quietly, "Excuse me," as she tentatively nudges her way through, careful not to touch Diamond.

When she's through the door, she keeps her gaze to the floor and doesn't look back. But Diamond does, and she watches the assassin. Now standing, she sees the skirt of Libby's opal dress beautifully ripples in the light, speckles of blue, pink, orange, and green. As she walks, a transparent floor-sweeping cape trials behind her, detailed in muted gold sparkle.

It's a magnificent dress, and yet to Libby it's probably casual attire. Diamond watches the assassin until she's through the double doors at the end of the hall. She stares at the doors for a couple of seconds after they've shut before turning to Kodlak. He still has an indifferent expression on his face.

"Did you mean for me to hear that?" Diamond asks, jabbing her thumb towards the hall.

"I did not." Kodlak bluntly answers. "But I'm glad you're here,"

Diamond takes the hint that he doesn't want to discuss it further, and suddenly her heart beats faster and her stomach twists at the remembrance of why she's here.

"Have a seat, little cub." Kodlak says.

Trying to keep her shaking hands at bay, and trying to keep her heart from exploding, Diamond sit down in the chairs, its seat still warm from Libby.

"I've heard you've been busy of late." Kodlak starts.

Diamond bites the inside of her cheek, carefully thinking of her words. When she speaks, she wants to smack herself for how shaky her voice is. "I've been working to bring honor to the Companions."

Kodlak sighs and lowers his head. "My little cub, I know what you've been up to."

Diamond swallows heavily, her throat clogging, but her body relaxing.

"Now mind you, it is no business of mine what each Companion does in the name of honor. But this sneaking around, it doesn't befit warriors of your standing. Aela knows better, and so should you."

He doesn't yell, he merely speaks sternly to her like a father would a child, and for some stupid but deep reason, Diamond starts to tear up. She sniffles and wipes her eyes, trying to catch the ears before they fall and her embarrassment reaches new heights. She didn't want to do this to begin with, but she was so clouded with grief from Skjor, and anger with Libby practically ruining her life by joining the Companions, she just wanted a bit of normality back.

"I just wanted to feel normal again." She childishly whines.

"Little cub," Kodlak says, extending his hand to her knee. "I know that these past few weeks haven't been the best for you, and I'm sorry if you feel like I haven't been putting your feelings first. I never want to hurt you."

Diamond simply nods, wiping her eyes and trying to keep her nose from dripping snot. "Why did you even let her in anyway?" her shoulders lift, as if the weight has been lifted just from her asking it.

"I'm sorry, youngling. But that is still something that I must keep to myself."

"But she –"

"Please Diamond, you will understand when you are ready. I'm sorry to keep it like this, but there are just some truths in this world that can't be exposed until the time is right."

"Kodlak,"

"You will understand. Trust me."

Her shoulders sagging in defeat, she simply wipes her eyes and revels in that she's not completely in trouble.

"Now, I have a task for you, little cub." Kodlak says, his tone brighter. Diamond looks to him and sighs as she sniffs. "And this one involves Libby as well." Diamond's face changes to exasperation. But before she can speak, Kodlak holds up his hand to silence her. She doesn't dare speak out against him again. So she results to physically bite her tongue as he continues. "I assume you've been told the story on how we became werewolves."

"All I remember is Skjor telling me that it was a blessing from Hircine."

"Aye, that sounds like him." Kodlak nods, a sad smile on his lips. "As in all matters of faith, though, the reality is a bit more complicated than one believer would tell you."

"Then what's the truth?"

"The Companions are over five thousand years old. This matter of beastblood has only troubled us for a few hundred." Kodlak explains. "One of my predecessors was a good, but short-sighted man. He made a bargain with the witches of Glenmoril Coven. If we were to hunt in the name of Hircine, we would be granted great power."

"And then we became werewolves." Diamond concludes.

"But they did not believe the change would be permanent. The witches offered payment, like anyone else. But we had been deceived."

"Then they need to be hunted down for their trickery." Diamond says.

"We'll get to that." Kodlak says with a grin on his lips. "Now, I want you and Libby to go together. You both have your benefits in battle when it comes to stealth. And I don't want you taking these witches head on. Now, when you kill them, I need you to bring me their heads. To cure this disease, you see, it affects more than just our bodies. It seeps into the spirit. Upon death, werewolves are claimed by Hircine for his Hunting Grounds. For some, this is a blessing, but I am still a true Nord, and I wish for Sovngarde as my spirit home."

"Please, don't even start to say that." Diamond quickly snaps. Kodlak simply gives a gentle smile. Gods, the thought of losing him is more than Diamond can bare. It doesn't matter if he's an old warrior, he still has plenty of years left in him.

"Now, I ask that you bring their heads because I believe I have found the method of curing myself from my beastblood. Their magic ensnared us, and only their magic can release us. But they won't give it willingly."

"So after we kill them, we bring their heads to you."

Kodlak nods. "It is the seat of their abilities. From there we can undo centuries of impurity."

Diamond nods. "It'll be done. But I still don't see how Libby fits into all of this."

"Diamond, these witches are powerful."

"So why don't I just take anyone else? Is this just a form of punishment?"

"It would be a lie if I said it wasn't." Kodlak admits. "But I just need you and Libby to do this on your own."

"But she –"

"It's either this Diamond, or I put you on kitchen duty for six months. And if you try to go alone, I'll make it stable duty. Understand?"

Pouting and biting back her protest, Diamond nods.

"Good, now go find Libby. Seeing as how you just saw her, she shouldn't be that hard to find. You girls have three days to prepare."

"Okay, and if I can ask something, are you sure you didn't just plan what had happened with me and Libby?"

"Diamond, I did no such thing." Kodlak says as he finishes sipping the tea Libby had made. "I was simply down here talking with her, and then I could smell your fear from the door."

"Why didn't you tell me to go away?"

"I figured you would on your own. But instead, you stay and listened. On your own means. I had no influence whatsoever, I promise you."

Then, Diamond is taken by surprise when Kodlak rises from his seat and kisses Diamond's forehead. It's quick, but it instantly gives her a warm feeling spreading through her. Like a shimmering veil of love.

"Talos guide you, lass." With a final nod, Diamond rises from her chair, sighing to herself as she leaves her Harbinger.

Now, no doubt Libby will be at her mansion after what had transpired. Will she even look to Diamond after what she had overheard? Diamond both believes and doesn't believe that Kodlak would set her up like that, for so many reasons. What does he expect her to be nicer to Libby, respect her more after what she had heard? She does feel bad, but a dark part of her still thinks Libby deserved it.

Gods, she hasn't set foot in Libby's mansion in over four, five years. Her house in Riften, she can navigate that blindfolded, but here in Whiterun, it's a bit of a blur. Diaond quickly changes clothes and grabs her favorite pink cloak lined with white fur. Leaving the hall of the Companions, Diamond brushes her hands and tries her best to remember the path to Libby's mansion.

It wasn't that hard to find the mansion, as it sits on a hill surrounded by green grass with an outer stone wall and black iron gates blocking it. Not to mention a couple of brutes whom Diamond has never seen before. But they seem to know her, as they simply looked to her for moment before letting her through the gates.

Diamond gives an exhale of admiration. The house was _huge_ and probably cost a king's fortune to build. A fortune Libby had raked in over the past years. As she walks up the cobblestone pathway, a large marble fountain comes into view, a voluptuous statue standing at its peak. The house seems to have its own – well, everything. It has its own guest house, balconies, a wraparound porch, stables, greenhouse, flower garden, and what possibly sounds like a backyard pool.

Incredible, Diamond knew Libby was wealthy, but she didn't know how far Libby's wealth stretched.

As she comes up the steps, she's almost intimidated by the double mahogany doors that greet her; their knockers in the shapes of roaring lions, the ring set in their mouths. She takes the ring and hits the door three times. Its echoes rather loudly. How could Farkas have not been intimidated by this? She can only imagine what the inside looks like, let alone what other houses have had "improvements" over the years.

The door opens and Diamond is bewildered to find a Khajiit woman. She smiles at Diamond, as she wipes her hands on her apron.

"Um, hi." Diamond clears her throat. "I'm, er – "

"You're Diamond aren't you?" the Khajiit woman says, leaving Diamond baffled.

"Um, yes. Yes, I am."

"Ah," the Khajiit woman smiles, revealing her sharp canine teeth. "My Lady is around the back towards the stables. You can just take this left and you'll walk into it."

"Oh, okay. Well, thank you." Diamond stutters, and the Khajiit nods and smiles before shutting the door.

Diamond had meant to ask if Libby had been expecting her, but it's most likely the servant recognize her from their previous years.

Following her directions, Diamond rounds her way towards the back on the left-hand side of the house. The smell had reached her before she even saw the stables. But they were big. And the overbearing smell could only mean that there had to be a vast number of horses here, breeds varying form all around Tamriel, if Diamond knew Libby well enough.

Filled with the pungent smell of dung and hay, the Companion lifts her cloak as she tries to find Libby. When she does find Libby, she's cooing and brushing a horse's neck. Diamond lets loose a small gasp of surprise, her heart beating with excitement.

This mare is a prized stallion from the Imperial City. A Chorrolian stallion with a thundercloud coat and ebony black mane. They say that the Ancient Beings forged them from the four winds – spirit of the north, strength from the south, speed from the east, and wisdom from the west.

Mares, Diamond remembers, are more prized as pedigrees were traced through female lines. The mare huffs and stomps her forelegs almost in challenge, but Libby only smiles and giggles. She's dressed out of that lovely opal gown and now stands in cream colored pants, brown leather boots that reach her knees, and a blood-red tunic. Her hair is now pulled into a ponytail.

Libby turns to her, as if she had known Diamond had been there the whole time. The only sign of surprise she gives is a raise of her eyebrows. She then turns away from Diamond and continues to brush the horse. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Diamond's initial answer is bitten back seconds after she assesses Libby's words. When she expected to find sarcasm laced with bitterness, she only finds slight bemusement and . . . timidity. Diamond shifts her feet, tucking one hand into her pants pocket and the other resting on the hilt of her steel dagger. "Kodlak wanted me to see you."

Libby turns to her, her eyes suddenly sparkling with a childlike wonder. "And you actually came?"

"I just needed to tell you something." Diamond says, averting her own gaze, finding a bridle and saddle suddenly so interesting. Looking back, Libby is simply standing there, one hand on the stallion's neck, waiting for her to finish. "He wants us to go on a trip together, to slay the witches of Glenmoril Coven."

This makes Libby's skin grow pale. She stiffens slightly and Diamond can see her chest move as if she's trying to catch her breath. Diamond is nearly shocked to see the fear in Libby's eyes.

"Witches . . .? Of Glenmoril?" she breathes in fear and astonishment. "Well I certainly hope that you're well prepared in both weapons and knowledge."

"Why?"

"Because it won't be as easy as just killing them." Libby almost stutters, her face void of color. Gods, no way – is she really afraid?

"What's the deal? I know how to kill witches – just cut off their heads."

Libby dramatically sighs in frustration. "Unlike the vile Hagravens, some witches were gifted with ethereal beauty. But the Glenmoril Witches have iron teeth, sharp like a fish's. And they have iron fingernails that can gut you in one swipe."

Diamond goes rigid for a brief second. Then she remembers – witches was one of Libby's fears. She would often mock Libby for her fear saying that witches aren't real, that was until they both witnessed their first Hagraven experience. Diamond still shivers at the memory of that foul creatures claws on her neck.

As Libby dips the brush in a bucket of water, she tries to control her shaking hands. She knew stories – legends that had given her brutal nightmares as a child, a courtesy of Delvin when he wanted to keep her from getting into any trouble. Brynjolf walloping the man within in an inch of his life after he found out.

"What have you heard about them?" Diamond asks, folding her arms, trying to ignore the chill that runs up her spine.

"Stories." Libby says quietly. The mare angles her head, her lips brushing Libby's. Her hand gently touches the mare's snout and her head goes forward again. "There was a trio of girls from Riften, who went exploring around an abandoned Orc stronghold late one night. The place had been ransacked and ruined from a deadly blood battle with rivaling strongholds. There was a small archway that the base of one of their watchtowers – so you could see clearly though it to the other side. Legend says that one of their shamans used it as a portal to, other worlds."

The hair on Diamond's neck stands up.

"Two of the girls went inside, the third waiting at the end of the hill. Much later she heard screaming. Only one girl came running out, and the two of them ran all the way back to Riften. They had gone under the archway of the tower, and saw an open door leading into its interior. But an old woman with metal teeth was standing in the shadows, and she grabbed the other girl and dragged her into the stairwell."

Diamond chokes on a breath.

"When the guards came to investigate, they didn't find any trace of the girl or the old woman."

"Gone?" Diamond whispers.

"They did find one thing," Libby says softly. "They ascended the tower, and on one of the landings, they found the bones of a child. White as ivory and picked clean."

"Gods above." Diamond says. Libby plunks the brush into the bucket of water and begins to dry off the horse. "But, but they're just stories, something used to scare the children into behaving. You don't actually believe them, right?"

Libby pauses on what she's doing, her back still to Diamond. When she takes a deep breath, there's cold shiver at the base of Diamond's spine.

"Have you . . . have _you_ ever seen one of the witches?"

Libby is silent for a moment before she says, "Yes. It was just days after the murder of my father. I just . . . I just ran. From what, I can't say. I was – I was out in the snow. It was a heavy blizzard, and I could barely see in front of me. I had encountered a raid of bandits and armed with only an iron dagger, I fled. I ran and ran and ran until I couldn't run anymore. I didn't even know where I was. And then I collapsed at the campfire of a witch – one of the Glenmorils with iron teeth. With both of my parents dead, I didn't care if she killed me. But she told me that it was not my fate to die there. That I will journey to Riften, and there . . . there I would find my fate. She fed me and bound my bleeding feet, and gave me gold – gold that I later used to buy a bow and a decent set of arrows."

Libby lowers her head, her voice almost wavering. "And then the rest is history."

And now, and Kodlak wants to go with Diamond to slay these witches?! He must be out of his gods-damned mind! While she knew he would _never_ send the two of them on a death mission, what could _possibly_ be his reasons as to doing this?! Diamond is relatively quiet, and while Libby doesn't want to break her motion of thought, she needs to know.

"Any reason why he's sending us there?" Libby casually asks as she resumes grooming the massive beast's flank.

"None that you need to know." Diamond sharply answers. Libby is about to protest, she Diamond speaks up. "It's just personal stuff with him, okay?"

There's a brief pause in Libby's brushing, but she continues, keeping her back to the Companion. "I'm assuming you did something bad to get him to assign me with you?"

"Why would you say that?" Diamond asks, taking a step closer to the pen holding the stallion.

"Because by now, it seems you would rather shove shards of glass into your eyes than even be in the same room with me."

"Yeah well, the sooner we get this done, the better." Diamond bites, though this time she feels a bitter taste on her tongue. Her heart nearly stops when Libby turns to her.

The sadness and the . . . hurt in her eyes makes their emerald green dull, almost like they're behind frosted glass. Diamond almost thinks she might start crying. Though this time, Diamond does not feel as happy as she thought she would be. Libby's face, her features, everything about her now seems so genuine. And for once in the years that have passed– Diamond sees the girl that was once her friend.

Finally Libby blinks and turns back to the horse, who grunts and shakes her head. Her lips fiddling with Libby's long sleeve "When do we start?"

Diamond bites her bottom lip, this time watching her tone. "Kodlak is giving us three days to prep ourselves and get ready. Then we depart on Tirdas."

"Okay." Libby says quietly, still not looking at Diamond. She continues brushing the horse, not even flinching when the mare stomps her hoof and neighs. She simply looks to the horse and pets its snout.

"What's her name?" Diamond asks, approaching until she is right outside the stall.

"Volivia." Libby answers, dipping her chin slightly. "It means 'rider of thunder' in the ancient language of Cyrodiil."

Libby runs her hand down the horse's flank. She suddenly turns to Diamond. "Are you a good rider?"

The Companion blinks. "Uh, I guess –"

Diamond doesn't even finish before Libby has already mounted the mare in a smooth, quick motion.

"Wait! What are you –?!"

She barely responds when Libby's hand reaches out and grabs her hand. As quickly as she can, Diamond's feet miraculously find the stirrup and follows her hoist up. She just got herself adjusted before Libby digs her heels into the mare's side and they take off into a gallop.

This is probably stupid. This is probably reckless and bad, but Libby was so taken aback by having Diamond here that she just wanted to get the girl away from the city. They might not event talk, Diamond might even hate her more – but she knew that Diamond felt that slight connection between them. And she wanted to keep it alive for as long as she can.

The guards didn't even know what was happening until the girls are already across the bridge, zooming past them and the gates in a blur of grey.

Libby can feel Diamond's arms coil around her and her legs gripping Libby's hips. She let out a strangled squeal when the girls bolted from the stables, the stableboys leaping out of their way to let them pass.

Libby almost wanted to apologize; in the past, Diamond hated whenever Libby ever got like this. While Libby is decently skilled at controlling her emotions, whenever she did lose her demeanor, it was enough to scare Diamond into not pissing her off. Ever.

Diamond always claimed that Libby acted rather scary and rather stupid; and she's right, for the most part. Her temper was one of the issues Libby had, it being the reason she got into so many scuffles while growing up.

They zoom through the streets, citizen crying out and cursing them as they pass. Libby looks back, only for a moment to see Diamond's face pressed against her back, her eyes shut and gripping onto Libby for dear life. She can't help but laugh at the Companion.

The make a sharp left, breaking for the side exit from the city, Diamond squealing again. This time her head lifts and she squints her eyes slightly. As she beholds their intended direction, she tries to tell Libby to stop, but her words are swallowed by the wind.

They're through the city exit, the whoosh of the archway briefly shadowing them. The mare's hooves pound against the cobblestone, kicking up leaves. The sea of trees explodes around them in a vast blanket of green and red and orange. Libby is riding as if the denizens of Hell are behind her and the Companion. Diamond can only do her best to keep in the saddle.

The stallion moves swiftly as lightning as they thunder into the canopy of the trees. She moved so fast Libby's eyes began to water from the wind.

Diamond didn't say anything as they made curve after curve, dodging thick-trunk trees. Left and right, right and left bearing west until they break through into a clearing, the Throat of the World their backdrop accompanied by the wide open blue sky and fluffy clouds. Libby revels in the sound of hooves pound, pound, pounding against the ground.

She feels Diamond grip her shoulders, digging her nails into her skin as she shouts, "Are you out of your damned mind?!"

Libby simply laughs. She could tell Diamond was debating on either throwing Libby off, or throwing herself from the horse, but Libby jerked her chin towards the expanse ahead. "Live a little, Diamond!"

Her lips twitching into a snarl, Diamond suddenly shouts. "I won't even be _able_ to live if I fall off this horse!"

And with a wild grin, Libby taps her heels into the mare's sides. Diamond holds onto Libby, keeping her cloak pressed to her back, Diamond's billowing out behind her in a wave of purple. The girls pass under a stretch of magnolia trees just finishing losing their petals. Diamond emerges her face enough to see the beauty, her eyes widening. Libby reaches up a hand and yanks at a branch, and the petals of the pink flowers fall and trickle, dancing in the wind.

Despite herself, Diamond smiles and reaches up a hand, yanking on the next branch.

As the mare hits the hard-packed earth, she gains speed, faster and faster. Libby lets out a whoop, tilting her head back and letting it echo across the plains.

Diamond then suddenly has a moment of clarity as her hair whips all around her in a craze and sears her red, raw cheeks. Of all the girls in the world, she is here surrounded by trees and mountains – astride a Cyrodiil stallion, running faster than the winds of time. Most would never experience this – and yet she can experience this in her life. When was the last time she felt so . . . alive?

And for that one moment, she tastes it. Freedom – so bliss and so complete that she tips her own head back and laughs, howling to the heavens.

The girls bound across the plains, cresting knoll and after knoll until, in a flash of sunlight, the green of the grass fades off into red dirt, and towering stacks of red rock rise. Walls of rock emerge into view as the girls surge closer towards a canyon. Interstice, if Libby knew her geography well – which she did. With its river dividing it cleanly down the middle and leading towards the White River, the Interstice is the main crossing used by travelers to get from The Pale into Whiterun Hold.

A wide opening in the wall of the red rock appears, twisting away from sight. Diamond doesn't say anything as they plunge the canyon, the walls surrounding them. The beating hooves echo like firecrackers. They weave and turn with the passage, so fast the rocks become a blur; a streamline of red. Libby navigates the mare to take a small rocky path up the canyon walls.

That's when Diamond's hands grip Libby's sides enough that it hurts. "What are you doing?" she calls.

Libby looks over her shoulder to the Companion, her sapphire eyes gleaming with worry. "Just trust me on this."

The Companion's nostrils flare, but she burrows into Libby's back. The assassin bites her lip with slight regret – Diamond hates heights.

The horse continues up the northern wall of the canyon, fearless and huffing with exhilaration. Then the roar of waters hits their ears. The path widens and soon they find themselves under an overhang of the walls, the roaring getting louder. Libby lifts her head and nudges Diamond slightly. The Companion lifts her head enough to peer over Libby's shoulder and her eyes widen in wonder.

A waterfall flows down heavily somewhere from the rock above them, and into an oasis that so clear, she can see the fish swimming from their height. To Libby's surprise, Diamond leans out ever so slightly so see the white foam of the water as it crashes below. Looking ahead, the path takes them behind the waterfall, the stone moist with sprouts of greenery.

Libby slows the horse as they become sheltered by the water. Reaching out her hand, Libby touches the ice cold water, smiling to herself and cackling as it sprays onto her and Diamond. She shields herself, squealing, but smiling.

The mare continues on trotting up the path, higher and higher until they reach the top of the northern rock wall. The entire span of the canyon is in their sights and that feeling of being on top of the world boils in Libby's stomach.

With a snap of the reins, the horse takes off again. Diamond's tight grip returns and this time the panic is clear in her voice. "What are you doing?! Libby!"

The assassin gives a fiendish grin. "We're taking a short cut. What good is a Chorrolian stallion if it can't jump?"

She watches Diamond's face grow pale. "You can't be serious."

The jump would be at least thirty feet – and the fall after that was much longer. But what Diamond doesn't know is that Libby has made this jump many times before. But her horses are purebreds of High Rock, they jump over caverns like they're simple creeks. In Cyrodiil, they have bounding plains and steep hills, but this jump would be a new for them. Who knows, the horse might even buck them off.

And yet, Libby can't seem to find her care.

"Libby!" Diamond screams.

Libby's adrenaline has clouded her thoughts and her logic and her sense.

There is isn't enough room for them to stop, anyway. Even if she tried, they wouldn't have enough space to slow down. They would just fall over the edge.

"Libby –!"

The horse gives a sudden burst of speed and Libby can barely hear Diamond praying to anyone, anything as the edge nears. She hears Diamond gasp, her body tensing, and then they are over the lip of the ravine, which goes far, far, farther down than Libby remembers. And the horse is soaring, only air beneath them, nothing to keep the girls from the death that awaits to snatch them with a clawed hand.

The sunlight catches in Diamond's hair as they fly over the ravine, and Libby loosens a joyous cry that sets the whole canyon humming. A moment later, there is rock under them, solid rock. They land on the other side, with only inches to spare.

Libby feels Diamond grip her tighter as they land atop the rock wall on the southern side, the impact exploding through their bones, and they keep galloping.

Libby cackles, letting out another whoop when they come out of the other side of the Interstice. She turns to find Diamond still there, her face still buried in her back, but her eyes are still wide in ecstasy.

They enter the green and forest again, riding through the fields heading east back towards the capital. The sun is nearing the horizon. Gods know how long they've been gone; it only feels like minutes.

When the horse was too winded to keep running, Libby finally stops them just outside the kingdom's walls, the cobblestone bridge the only thing keeping them outside. Diamond was silent behind her, her knuckles white from their grip. When she feels the horse stop, she slowly lifts her head, her hair now a tangled mat of yellow.

Libby looks at Diamond, wildness still in her eyes. "Wasn't that fun?"

Breathing hard, Diamond doesn't say anything. Her cheeks are flushed pink, and it looks as if her freckles have multiplied.

She merely gives her own crazed smile as she punches Libby so hard in the face that the assassin goes flying off of the horse and tumbles into the grass.

Libby just clutches her jaw and laughs.


	24. Chapter 23

"Did you now?" Farkas chuckles as he prepares to take a sip of lemonade from his mug.

"I swear." Libby laughs along as she takes a forkful from the mound of fried vegetables set on her plate in front of her. "I spent the night in Riften jail dungeon for the welts and blisters I had left on her face from beating her with the bear itself. But it was mostly my knuckles."

Farkas snorts while in the middle of his sipping.

"Hey, at least I was smart enough not to turn my blade on her." Libby argues as she smacks the Companion's arm.

Hours after their wild ride through the hold, Diamond and Libby return to Jorrvaskr with tangled hair and cheeks red from wind burn. It was dinner time when the girls arrived, but both quickly descended down into the living quarters to freshen up. She would've gone to Dragonsreach for dinner with Nassari, but the princess had declined, groaning in annoyance about how she had to sit in with a council with Jarl Balgruuf.

When Libby came up in the main hall with her tamed hair, Farkas was the first to greet her. He merely smiled at her and jerked his head towards the back doors.

Libby smiled and they gathered their plates with whatever food they desired and set out on the back porch. It was nearing the last day of decently warm weather, and so with the sun hidden behind the clouds, the back porch was decently temperature. They sit at the large table at the center, set with a couple of candles at its middle.

"That was probably the only time I ever snapped on her. Since she and I met at the age of ten, in the following years we've known each other, I can't think of a time when I didn't want to beat the girl's face in with my dagger. Or throw her of a balcony, or do any of the number of things I had learned from my father." Libby says, and Farkas laughs.

Hearing his laughter fills Libby with glee and she ends up cackling as well.

They had gotten onto the topic of Libby and her life with her father. And Libby just started ranting about the bitterness between her and a former Guild member, Skullette, for the years they've grown up together. And that led to the story of how Libby and Skullette got into a tangle after Skullette had snatched Libby's favorite stuffed bear out of her hands.

The ensuing fight left them both bloodied and bruised, but Skullette was left worse because Libby had beaten her so bad that the Guild leaders couldn't see her face through the blood. At the time, Mercer demanded punishment, and so Libby spent the night in Riften's prison.

Since then, Skullette had left the Guild when it started to reach below standards. Libby can't help but wonder how she was doing.

As she flicks her gaze to Farkas, her heart almost skips when she finds Farkas staring at her, a smile on his lips. "What?" she says.

Realizing what he was doing, the Companion blinks and he clears his throat. "I was, just wondering why you tend to favor the bow."

Libby gives a sly grin, but she follows the lead. "Well, it was the only weapon that I was able to afford when I was little, and I really didn't like killing that much, so it was easier to shoot and not see blood." Libby explains. "And then when I got older and my, occupation, changed, it was better because it was silent and I could stay hidden if I got the attention of an enemy."

Farkas nods, still a small smile on his lips.

"What about you?" Libby asks as she pokes her fork into her grilled leeks.

"What about me?"

"Why do you prefer a broadsword?" Libby asks, resting her cheek against her knuckles.

Farkas shrugs his shoulders. "I like the reach is has, and the power behind it. I can swing at an enemy and still hit them."

"But isn't it slow?"

"Now when it's held by a skilled warrior." Farkas grins, taking a swig from his mug

Libby rolls her eyes, but still smiles. She takes another forkful of vegetables. "Do you shoot often?"

"Sometimes. But not really. Archery if more of Aela's thing."

"Do you hunt?"

"I used to, for basic training of archery, but I've since stopped." Farkas says, taking a large bite out of a venison.

"Why don't we go hunting together?" Libby asks, her heart thumping and cheeks warming.

Farkas stops mid-chew for a split second before swallowing and nodding his head. "Yeah. Yeah, I would like that. If you were good in the ruins, I'd love to see you out in the woods."

"It's be like coming home." Libby smiles, but Farkas falters when he sees a hint of sadness behind it.

"You lived in the woods?"

Libby angles her head down and away, looking out towards the wall and then the wide plains and mountains beyond. "It was when I was very little." She turns back to Farkas, the gold of her eyes shimmering. "I know these mountains well. I've been climbing them since I was four. It was a part of my training."

"That's some training for a four-year-old."

"First time I climbed, I fell and broke my wrist. Made it to the top anyway. It was expected. After the loss of both my parents, I wandered the woods for a while. I stole a bow and some arrows from a Khajiit caravan, and I gathered what little information I had on hunting and did what I could."

"Is that how you got that scar on your right hand?" Farkas asks, jerking his chin towards her hand. Libby doesn't even need to look at the scar that starts at the knuckle of her middle finger and trails all the way down to the bone of her wrist.

"No, that I got after I broke my hand." Libby says, taking a sip from her mug.

"How did you break it?"

"Well, after Zusa told me how terrible I was at sword fighting with my left hand, she gave me the option that she could break my hand, or I can do it myself. So, I put my hand in a doorway and slammed the door shut on it." Libby flexes her fingers, remembering the blinding pain that seared through her arm. "I cut my hand open and broke three fingers. Took months to heal, months of which I learned not to use my left hand."

Farkas just stares at her with slightly wide eyes. Libby coldly grins.

"I bet your beloved Harbinger never did that to you, huh."

Farkas shakes his head. "No, he didn't." He stares at her for a moment longer before he clears his throat. "So, in addition to going hunting, how about we also have dinner together?"

Libby's cheeks grow warm, and a small electric shock waves through her body, tingling in the back of her neck. She blinks a couple times, and then smiles. "Yes, I would like that very much."

Farkas smiles, white teeth and all and Libby can't help but giggle. He holds up his goblet and Libby holds up her, and the two of them clink together. They stay out there, talking until the sun has long since set behind the mountains.

When they come inside, the rest of the Companions are still in the hall, though instead of being at the table, they are scattered about, Torvar talking with Diamond, Vilkas sitting with Aela and the rest of the members mingling about. Farkas and Libby descend the stairs, each about to go their separate way, but then the doors to Jorrvaskr creak open, the hinges on the doors squeal loud enough to wake the dead.

All heads of the mead hall turn as the door finishes opening, and Princess Nassari, clad in a gold-worked wonder, stands before them. She doesn't look at any of the Companions, nor does she move as she stands in the doorway. Her eyes are upon the floor, and rivers of kohl run down her cheeks. Her feline ears are flattened to their sides.

"Nassari?" Libby asks, quickly heading down the steps. "What happened to the meeting?"

Nassari's shoulders rise and gall. Slowly, she lifts her head, revealing red-rimmed eyes. "I – I didn't know where else to go." She says in the common language.

Libby found it difficult to breathe as she hurries around the table towards the princess. "What happened?"

It is then Libby notices the piece of paper clutched in the princess's hands. It trembles in her grasp.

"They massacred them." Nassari whispers, her eyes wide. She shakes her head, as if she doesn't believe her own words.

Libby goes still, as do the rest of the Companions. The air in the mead hall grows still, and palpable. "Who?"

Nassari lets out a strangled sob, and a part of Libby breaks at the agony in the sound.

"A legion of Ulfric's army captured six hundred Elswyer rebels hiding on the border of Skyrim and Cyrodiil." Tears drop from Nassari's shoulders and onto her white dress. She crumples the piece of paper in her hand. "The Mane said they were to go to the labor camps as prisoners of war. But some of the rebels tried to escape on the journey, and . . ." Nassari breathes hard, fighting to get the words out. "And the soldiers killed them all as punishment, even the children."

Libby's dinner rises in her throat, and she feels the chill that runs down her spine fall in unison with the rest of the Companions. _Six hundred_ Khajiit – butchered.

Every Companions becomes aware of Nassari's guards standing in the doorway, their eyes gleaming. How many of the rebels had bene people that they knew – that Nassari had somehow helped and protected?

"What is the point in being a princess of Elsweyr if I cannot help my people?" Nassari says. "How can I call myself their princess, when such things happen?"

Libby's heart practically freezes. For a selfish moment – she wonders of what Erelia Glendeylin must feel. Seeing her entire culture wiped out, by the very same enemy that had so brutally taken the lives of those Khajiit rebels. She knew what this sort of loss was like, and word didn't do anything. She would be better for the princess to console to, but all she has is Libby.

The assassin's eyes watered. "I'm so sorry," Libby whispers.

As if those words broke the spell that had been holding the princess in place, Nassari rushes into Libby's arms. Her gold jewelry presses hard into Libby's skin. Nassari weeps. The two of them slowly slide down to the floor, the princess seemingly unable to support the weight of the news, or of the loss. Libby smoothly eases her down, stroking the princess's head, letting Nassari put all of her weight onto her.

Libby turns her head, and instantly she finds Kodlak staring right at them. Unable to say anything, Libby simply holds Nassari – for as long as it takes for the pain to ease.

* * *

The forest is quiet. Birds chirp and the sound of the river echoes through the trees. The thin mist of dew dwindles through wrapping its hands around the branches. Rabbits scurry, squirrels forage.

Libby is crouched in a gathering of foliage, her mask pulled over her face, a bow and arrow in her hand. She stares ahead, eyes locked in a trance. When her figure moves behind a tree, she's gone.

A male deer walks through a patch of wild petunias, huffing and sniffing for the scent of food; grazing at any edible grass along the way. Its footsteps and breathing the loudest in her ears. Libby stands absolutely still behind two thick trees, gazing at the animal with coldness. The beast hasn't even detected her scent.

In a quick turn, Libby spins out from her spot and shoots an arrow.

It lands in the reindeer's side and the beast roars and instantly bolts off running. Libby chases after it in a full out sprint; keeping mind of her breathing.

She follows the beast through the trees, watching it as if slowly uses up all its energy in a meaningless effort to escape. They break through some bushes and into a meadow. Out in the open, Libby pumps her arms at her sides and still sprints towards the deer. It now starts to walk. It whimpers and starts to teeter on its legs, its head groggily swaying from side to side.

Libby sprints faster towards it.

Finally it collapses in a pile of spring flowers. Their shades of pink and white and yellow contrast with the deer's brown fur.

It heaves heavily as Libby approaches, still whimpering. Libby kneels down next to it and pulls the arrow free, erupting a cry from the animal.

Libby stands and pulls her mask down, steadying her breath. Farkas runs up behind her winded. He doubles over, clasping his hands to his hands to his knees. He wearily looks up to the deer and gives a look of uneasiness.

"Wow." He breathes.

The deer whimpers as Libby walks around to its head. "I just missed your heart."

Squirming, the buck whines and Libby pulls out her dagger before stabbing it dead. Farkas jumps back startled, then regains balance. Farkas leans over Libby's shoulder as she starts to slice open the deer's belly with her dagger.

"Often times you won't be able to get close to your prey as you'd like and you'll have to settle with a long shot. However with such a long shot, it's more than likely that's the only shot you'll be able to take before your prey runs off. If you find yourself in such a situation, then you need to make your shot count. Don't rush your shot. Crouch down, get comfortable, and take aim." Libby explains.

Farkas nods. Once he hears the slashing of intestines and organs, Farkas averts his eyes and resorts to pacing around in the grass.

"Aren't you going to help?" Libby asks. Farkas looks up to see Libby looking over her shoulder to him.

"Do you need it?" Farkas asks innocently.

"You wanted to learn remember?"

"I said I wanted to learn how to fight and hunt." Farkas reminds.

"And a part of both is learning to deal with blood and guts. Come on, it's not that bad." Libby says as she stands. "How is it you can stand spilling other people's blood, but you don't like this?"

"Don't undermine me. I only do physical assignments. And besides, it's easier to kill humans." Farkas retorts as he reluctantly walks over. "You of all people should know that. It's easy for you."

"It is now, because I've grown used to it. Keep in mind my father had me do this when I was twelve. You're what, twenty-three? You're way past due." Libby says as she stands and hands Farkas the bloody knife. After a deep breath Farkas grabs the knife with a full grip instead of lifting his fingers to make sure they don't get blood on them.

"And you keep in mind that I wasn't raised by a cold assassin." Farkas says, and instantly regrets it. He waits for Libby to pin him to the ground with the knife pressed to his neck, but nothing happens. Farkas looks to Libby who keeps gazing at the deer carcass waiting for Farkas to finish. "No offense." Farkas adds.

"It wasn't my father, it was Zusa Phoenix." She breathes. "And before you say anything, my mother didn't like _any_ of this stuff." She adds. She kneels down next to Farkas as sees his hands shaking slightly. Libby sighs. "Now, make a small incision . . . right down the belly."

She points to a small area just beneath the deer's neck. Farkas nods and shakes his head.

For the last few hours, Libby spent it with Farkas teaching him the basics of close combat skills as well on how to handle his dagger properly in battle. Countless times Libby defeated him, telling him all of his mistakes and how to react in certain situations. Then when they moved on to shooting, Farkas seemed, happier. Libby had pinned several paper-made targets to the trunks of trees and ushered Farkas up to a forty yard line limit.

"Now remember, you can have the best technique and form in the world, but it won't mean a thing if you can't focus. The key to using any weapon, is focus. If you can keep your composure and trust that each shot is true, then you should be able to quickly handle multiple targets." Libby said.

After demonstrating and adjusting Farkas' form once he stepped up, Farkas seemed to hit the targets well.

He surprisingly showed promise, according to Libby's judgment and what her instructors told her makes a decent student. When she saw budding blisters appearing on his palm, Libby decided to stop.

Then for this hour, Libby was teaching Farkas hunting as well as stealth. Through it all, he seemed willing to learn. So Libby had to give the man credit for his enthusiasm.

"Here, this'll help. Just take knife, and stab it." Libby instructs.

"What?"

"Trust me. It'll help, plus it helps with any anger issues. Do it."

Farkas sighs and after a pause, stabs the knife into the belly of the deer. Then he starts to drag his hands across it to the right, warmth flooding his hands and trailing up to drip on his wrists. He winces but continues until Libby tells him to stop.

"Good job." she says.

Farkas makes a disgusted noise, his hands coated in blood. He groans as he whips his hands, splaying drops of blood on the grass.

Ever since yesterday, after the Princess Nassari came in and spoke about the Khajiit rebels, he knew Libby was acting different. It hurt his heart to see the princess in such agony, and it hurt him even more to know that members of his own kind did it to her. How could he ever look the princess in the eyes again? How could any of the Companions. No doubt Libby gave her Khajiit servants a long embrace last night.

And he knew that Libby shared her grief. She has been rather, rigid all day. More serious, sterner ever since she came to pick him up this morning from Jorrvaskr. Farkas didn't say anything, and even took the liberty of waking up early and freshening himself up.

"Do you remember a place where I can wash my hands?" Farkas asks.

"There was a stream a mile back. You can go there." Libby suggests.

"Alone?"

"Well I can't go anywhere, not now." Libby says. Farkas sighs and resorts to wiping his hands on the grass.

As Libby starts to gut and skin the buck, she thinks back to when Mercer sent her hunting one day in the winter. It was in December and the temperature was close to freezing. Libby was given a layered jacket and thicker boots as there was five inches of snow. The city was going through a starvation due to the lack of food since the ships couldn't sail through the icy waters. Zusa had taken advantage of this impasse as a way to get more members and dedications to her meadery.

Zusa had taken Libby out and by then Libby was already a master at her hunting skills. The cold had made Libby's hands so red and cracked that they bled at the slightest provocation. So sticking them inside a warm deer's body was slight relief.

"You're dead. Right now." Libby heard Zusa say behind her, her voice coming out of nowhere. "I've killed you."

Libby had thrown some entrails at Zusa as a means of distraction, but still it wasn't enough. She drew her daggers and started slashing. Within the means of a minute, Libby's back slammed into the hard packed snowy earth, the air nearly knocked out of him.

"You were half asleep." Zusa provoked. He then turned and started to walk away.

Libby pushed herself up on her hands and knees. "I'll do better next time." she said.

Zusa paused and barely looked over her shoulder. "Yes, you will." she answered. "Drag the deer back yourself."

Libby looked to the hundred and fifty pound deer and sighed. Thankfully if it weren't for her training with the dummy, the deer would've been a lot heavier. Through that deer, as well as several other of Libby's kills, with her master eye, the game was always good and people soon begged Zusa to have her accept their wares and loyalties to her guild. In a sense, Libby practically fed all the families of the members that winter until the ice finally melted.

"Libby." Farkas says, his voice breaking her away from the flashback.

"Yeah?" She answers, realizing she's already gutted the entire deer as well as cast its fur aside, leaving the intestines and guts in the carcass.

"I just . . . wanted to say, thank you." Farkas says.

Libby turns and looks to the man as he's standing with his arms folded over one another, as if in a self-embrace, his gaze cast to the side. "For what?"

Farkas shrugs. ". . . Just for training me. I really needed it." he softly chuckles.

Libby gives a ghost of a smile. "Sure."

"You know you didn't have to."

"I know."

There's a moment of silence when Farkas speaks again. "Anything I can help carry?"

Libby looks to him and Farkas is two steps closer, nearly standing over him. "Um . . ." she looks around between the meat and the fur. "Uh . . . why don't we go to the river and clean everything, and then you can carry the fur back to the town."

"Okay." Farkas gently smiles.

Libby gather up everything, handing Farkas the fur, which he takes happily as Libby sorts out the meat in her bag. "Who knows, maybe we can catch some fish."

He follow Libby, the fur draped over his arms as she leads them back to the river. Really carrying fur was nothing to Farkas, he just really wanted to clean his hands . . . so badly, but he wouldn't let Libby hear his complaining.

When they reach the river, Farkas immediately sets up by an outcropping of rocks and starts to clean the fur while Libby washes the meat and cleans her knife. Every once in a while, Farkas would hear the thwonk of the water as Libby shoots at salmon. Killing fish was easier for him since, well they're fish. Farkas even went fishing with his parents and scaling them was strangely his favorite activity.

"You're pretty good at that." He hears Libby say. He looks up and finds the assassin approaching with at least seven fish on a string. Two of which still flop about, splattering Farkas in the face with river water. Farkas looks down to double check what he's doing and realizes he's nearly cleaned the entire pelt.

"Oh, yeah." he bashfully smiles.

"You do that a lot?" Libby asks as she sits down next to the Companion.

"Uh, not really. I'm surprised I still know how to do it since it's been a while. But I did used to do it with my parents." says Farkas.

"Your parents? You barely say anything about them." Libby says.

"This is coming from the girl whose company is a band of thieves."

Libby angles her head towards him, and her frown makes Farkas' chest hurt. "Both of my parents are dead, I told you. The Guild became my new family."

"You're right. I'm sorry." Farkas says.

Libby and shakes her head. Farkas lays the fur on a rock to dry and sits with Libby as she places a mint leaf on her tongue. She tilts her head back and lets the summer sun warm his skin. A small smile stretches her lips.

"It would seem that your smiles are hard to come by lately." Farkas states. Libby looks over, her lips starting to turn downward. "But I guess that's why men find you attractive."

Libby's lips return and she looks back to the water. "Yeah right."

"Don't be modest." Farkas takes the risk and gently pushes Libby, rocking her slightly. "You may not be paying attention, but I am. And by the way the men whisper about you as you walk by, they want you."

Libby laughs this time and still shakes her head.

"But still, you rarely do ever smile." Farkas points out.

"Not like I have much to be happy about."

"You don't find pleasure in killing anyone? Or bringing honor to your guild?"

Libby sneers. "That's more of like a power control thing, and that brings temporary pleasure, which is different."

Farkas shrugs but nods his head. He shifts uncomfortably as Libby leans back on her hands. "I know you're upset about those Khajiit rebels." He dares to say. "And you have every right to. It truly is a pity."

Libby turns to him, feeling anger bubble in her chest.

"I can't even imagine what the princess must be going through." He turns to her with gentleness. "But she's lucky to have a good friend like you, though."

Libby swallows the lump in her throat, and feels her blood calm. She touches Farkas' shoulder. "Thank you."

The two of them then sit in long moments of silence, possibly an unspoken agreement to honor those that have been lost. Then, when he feels an appropriate amount of time has passed, Farkas speaks up. "So, if I may ask . . ."

Libby looks to him and nods in approval. "Sure."

"You talk a lot . . . about your father, and hate about Zusa, but what about your mother?" Farkas riskily asks.

Libby goes rigid and stifles a grunt. Farkas can tell he might have stepped a little too far over the line and feels his heart skip a beat in fear.

"I'm sorry. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to . . ." he quickly tries to add.

"Why do you care?" Libby asks, though it lacks its angry venom that Farkas expects.

"You asked me the same thing last time. And I'll tell you again: despite what it might bring or what might happen in the future, I want to know about you. I'm honestly intrigued by what makes you . . . you." Farkas says. He added that last part on impulsiveness, thinking that if he was honest with Libby that would at least earn him a little respect.

"Getting close to me only brings death and betrayal." She states, her gaze growing stern and Farkas can see the assassin part of her coming out. Libby gazes in the distant with steady eyes. She says it like it's a true statement, and Farkas can't help but feel pity towards her if she thinks of herself like that. He can't imagine how many times that had to have happened for Libby to believe it's a fact of her life.

"Not like refusing me will keep me safe."

"Yes it will." Libby harshly retorts. "In my town, everyone knows everyone. They will attack those that I . . . those that I know, to try and hurt me. So I keep my distance. Getting to know someone only puts a target on their back for my enemies, and I have a lot of enemies." Libby says.

Farkas doesn't know how to reply to that. Her points are valid and true. Being in the Guild, or any kind of criminal business, you can't trust anyone since they'll easily turn you over for a simple bag of gold or rumors that they can use as blackmail.

Blackmail. Betrayal. Gold. Blood. Poison. Daggers. Power. All these things add up to what makes Libby who she is. It's no wonder she doesn't want anyone close to her, and yet Farkas can't help but talk.

"I don't think I care, Libby."

She looks to him and her eyes show a genuine interest.

"What?"

"We're all going to die. It's inevitable." Farkas says.

"But don't you want to try and expand your years? Even if it's all an act?"

Farkas shrugs. "For me life is all about quality. Not quantity. And I'd rather make as many friends and impact so many lives as I can, even if it means I might be walking into my demise."

Libby stares at him, then her eyes slowly move away. "Well then you're just stupid."

"You just don't get it."

"No I don't."

Libby starts to pick at a clump of weeds. For a minute, the chirping birds and rippling of the stream water is all they hear. Then Libby's voice breaks the stillness.

"What makes a friend, Farkas?" she asks. "To you?"

He looks to the assassin, still picking at the weeds. She doesn't meet his gaze but Farkas can tell the questions makes her nervous.

"Well a friend is someone . . . who you can be honest with. Someone of whom you can trust your secrets with, and in return, they trust you with yours."

"That's it?"

"No. A friend is also someone who, remembers important details about you. Little things you don't pay attention to but they see." he explains. "Like say for your birthday, you like chocolate and they give you a box of it, but with the chocolate comes with sprinkles because you said once that you like sprinkles."

"You almost make is sound like it's a feminine thing."

"It's not. To put it bluntly, a friend is someone that you trust and care about like they're family." Farkas summarizes.

"What if you're gone from each other for a while?" Libby asks.

"True friendship isn't about being inseparable, it's about being separated and nothing changes." Farkas answers.

Raking through her thoughts, Libby can't really say that she was completely alone in her life, and yet he can. Diamond was the only real friend she had, and even that can't be clarified as legit since that disastrous night on the Emperor's ship, and then no contact with each other for three years.

And now, when they meet again Diamond acts like what they had was never real. And now it seems that Libby doesn't seem worth verifying as 'friend.' If it weren't for the Guild, Libby would've thought that no one would want to get to know her, let alone like her.

She has so many people around her, and yet she still feels so alone. Like something is missing, but what? There's Brynjolf, and Delvin. Her father. Vex, and Karliah.

She can't help but wonder if Zusa had somehow gotten into her head, despite Libby's better efforts. Somehow that Zusa made her think that betraying Diamond was the right thing to do, because their line of business is risky.

Because they will be targeted. And then they will regret being friends with Libby.

The conflicting emotions inside her is strong enough to feel like a war. She shifts forward, resting her elbows on his knees. She suddenly feels like crying. "I can't." Libby mumbles, shaking her head

"Why not?" Farkas asks.

Libby looks up to him. "Because it won't end well for you. It'll either end with your heart and trust broken, or with your blood on the end of a blade."

"It's nice to think about. You not wanting to be friends because you're protecting me. So that means you care about me in some ways."

Libby runs the tip of her tongue over her teeth behind closed lips as he debates. "I care about you in more ways than you know." she says.

He would've just kissed her right there, but Farkas can't get past the way his voice sounds almost, pleading. Sorrowful.

Libby ruffles her fingers in her hair and sighs. She closes her eyes and takes a few deep breathes. When she opens them, she speaks. "I have faint memories of her, my mother, but I know my father did love her."

"What happened?" Farkas softly asks.

"She was killed, when I was babe. My father doesn't like to talk about it."

"Makes sense."

"I hate it." Libby says. Farkas looks to her and scooches himself closer. Libby doesn't notice, or doesn't care. "I want to know – or remember so much about her. I want to remember who she was, what she was like. What would she look like? Because all I see in me is my father. Would we have both liked carrots and hated strawberries? Or maybe we would've both thought that corsets was a waste of money." Libby says. When she inhales, her breath is shaky. Her voice begins to quake. "I miss what we might have had together."

Farkas risks placing a hand on Libby's shoulder in attempt in comfort. Libby doesn't shrug it off. "I'm sorry, Libby."

Strangely, this comforts Libby more than if Farkas were to say it was okay. Because it's not okay.

It's not okay that her mother is gone. It's not okay his father didn't talk about her before he died. It's not okay Libby has to live her life without her parents. Would either of them even approve of the thief lifestyle? Would Libby be a little more sympathetic and compassionate?

All of these questions can't and probably never will be answered.

Libby sniffs, though Farkas can't remember seeing tears stream down her cheeks. "I'm not even sure I can remember what she looks like. It really feels like she's never been there, ever. Even when I asked older guild members, they give vague details. And now, when I try to remember her, all I see is blackness. I can't even conjure up even the simplest image."

"I'm sorry." Farkas repeats.

"It's not your fault." Libby denies. "But I appreciate your condolences."

Farkas slowly snakes his arms further across Libby's shoulders and still she doesn't shift. Farkas finally manages to half-hug Libby and rests his chin on her shoulder.

It may be his wishful thinking, but he feels Libby slightly lean into him.

Libby sniffs and exhales heavily, and her shoulders relax.

For the next hour that passes, they simply sit and work in quiet. After the fur has dried and Libby has successfully cleaned the meat, they walk back to the city with Libby carrying the fur folded over her arms and Farkas carrying the meat in the bag on his back.

They walk quietly, both with soft smiles on their faces. With their talk in the woods, Libby seems, happier. She talked about a few more things, such as how the Guild taught her about stealth and about some of the places she was able to travel when on business. Farkas thought that the confessions of her mother was enough for her and decided to change the topic then.

The two of them make the exchanges at the market before they make the walk back to Libby's mansion. By now, he has most of the house mapped out in his head, so it was easy to follow Libby into the kitchen, where the day's sunlight eliminates the need for torches or iron chandeliers.

And that was where she had left him. She said he could help himself to anything in the fridge, so long as he cleaned himself up afterwards. And then she just left through the wide archway.

Even with the permission granted, Farkas felt as though raiding through her fridge would be rude, and not just because he knew he would've devoured the whole thing, but more importantly it sounded as if she was leaving him. And he didn't want their time together to end, he wanted to keep talking with her. Perhaps she wanted to keep seeing him too. If she was truly done with him, she would've made him leave the house all together.

He can't explain what it is, but there was something about her that made him want to, change. He even bought that book that she claimed was her favorite, _Thief of Virtue_. It certainly was quite the read, but it was complicated to finish it as he had to hide the book whenever someone came into his room. Seeing him read, why they would have him shipped off to the nearest mage thinking he was under some kind of spell.

And after today, he can't help but picture Libitania as a bit of a book herself; and with every chapter he reads and learns about her, it only makes him want to turn to the next page and keep learning, keep exploring.

Farkas puts the remaining meat into the freezer box and sets the newly purchased fruit into the bowl set on the table. It could be the news of the Khajiit rebels still hovering around him, but he almost felt unwelcome in her home when she's not with him. So despite his better judgment, Farkas leaves the kitchen and enters the formal living room. Looking around, Farkas disassembles his armor and sets the pieces on a console table.

Now dressed appropriately in his grey tunic, Farkas looks all around the room and finds the doorway leading to the entryway. No doubt Libby went to her rooms. He passes a Khajiit servant carrying a wicker basket of laundry. She nods her head to Farkas, and the Companion nods back, trying his best to smile while still silently showing his condolences.

Julmas is in a matter of weeks, and within that time, it's supposed to be a time of celebration and relaxation. A time to celebrate the carnal pleasures that keeps one warm on a winter's night. When more people paid attention to peasants on the streets. Women wear their hair down; some even refusing to wear a corset. It was a holiday to feast on the fruits of the harvest and to raise mugs in songs of old. But now . . .

Now he as a sinking feeling in his stomach. How can he celebrate when word had arrived of what Ulfric and his Stormcloaks did to those Elsweyr rebels? They hadn't spare a single life. Six hundred Khajiit – all dead. How could he call himself a Nord when soldiers of his race had been trained to have so little compassion for life?

Farkas' mouth goes dry. Libby is an Imperial, just like her father; and with still no idea of her mother, he suppose it's a miracle of the gods that she hasn't killed him yet. Or perhaps she's been all over Skyrim that she doesn't care anymore.

Somehow, Farkas didn't think that was the case – not when she had that thick layer of hideous scars on her back to forever remind her of the Nords and their brutality. Just as he's about to partake in a mental argument, he hears it . . .

A trickle of notes. And then a slow melody of higher keys. Then there's a lower note, deep and so full of sorrow and anger.

Without contenting his feet, they begin to move towards the sound. He's taken up a flight of stairs, down a long hallway, and then two turns left and he's at Libby's rooms. The sound of the music becoming more and more define. He's through her bedroom and into her music room.

And there . . . there she is.

Seated in profile at a grand piano, her hands are trailing back and forth over the keys. The music picks up once more, the pattern of trickling notes matching the movements of the beauty before him. Her raven hair is secured partially by a glittering comb, hanging in loose strands around her downturned face, concealing her features from view as she plays.

The dress that she wears, beautiful and elegant, is floor-length. It hugs close to the curves of her body before opening out just below the knees like the trumpet of a bell flower.

Her hands, nimble and long-fingered, seemed to float over the piano keys. And yet the way she moved, jerky and quick between smooth slow-motion moments.

Rocking forward and back ever so slightly as she plays, she hums delicately with a wispy and ethereal voice, one infused with control, less like an angel's and more like that of a ghost, heartrending and full of mystery. An interlude of high notes trickled forth in a complicated pattern, accented by a few well-placed chords from the instrument's lower spectrum. This mixture of dark and light, high and low, hope and despairs, worked is hypnotic effect on the Companion, as though he was a small child listening to an intricate story.

He could immediately tell that her imagination is control her hands as they danced across the white and black key. No doubt a tribute to those rebels. She let her emotions fuel the notes, the song as she plays. The unrelenting sorrow she feels, the pain, the agony. She lets it course through her body, her veins as she closes her eyes. Echoes – shreds of memories arising out of the void of her mind her rooms are so silent that the music seems obtrusive.

Leaning in the doorway, Farkas stands, utterly transfixed. He never would've thought he would find a woman pouring her secrets into a pianoforte. The notes burst from her hand, playing upon the flats and sharps. It was so sad, the tune and yet somehow befitting not only those who have gone, but also to herself somehow.

He hoped she knew he was watching, and if not, he doesn't really know how to approach the situation. If he goes and makes himself known, she will stop; but if he waits until she's done – if she ever gets done –then she will have his head for intruding. Both result in embarrassment for her. He could just walk away, but he can't seem to tear his eyes away from her. It all seem too human for Skyrim's Assassin.

Here, she's not a killer. Merely a woman who is letting her emotions flow forth in a beautiful display of music.

Daring himself to do what he felt was his best option, Farkas steps over the threshold and into the room. Libby doesn't move, she doesn't open her eyes. With all of her year of assassinating experience, Farkas is surprised that he manages to sit down on the bench with her.

And then he sees the small streaks of tears down her cheeks.

He's about to say something and prepares for the verbal chastising of a lifetime, when he feels her lean into him, their arms pressed together. He looks to her, and slowly she opens her eyes, angling her heads towards him, and yet her fingers still play flawlessly.

Libby's eyes are slightly red as is her nose. Farkas wipes one of her cheeks with his thumb. Slowly, her hands slow, tickling the keys ever so gently as they glide down the lower spectrum and end with a soft touch of a chord. Then her fingers slide off the keys and into her lap, their echo reverberating through the chamber.

"You were laying so beautifully I didn't –"

"It's fine." She says softly. She takes a deep breath and wipes her eyes. "Where do men find it in themselves to do such monstrous things? How do they find it acceptable?"

Farkas takes her chin and lifts it, finding her eyes lined with silver. "They will pay, Libby. They will get what they deserve."

Libby leans closer and her head rests on his shoulder. Farkas caresses her cheek, taking in the sweet smell of her hair. Selfishly, for a second, he wonders if their dinner plans are still active. His fingers find hers and they interlock together. He gives them a squeeze, and she returns it. "I hope you're right." She says.

It might've been his wishful thinking, but Libby scoots closer to him on the bench and het fingers return to the piano keys. It's a smooth, soft trickle of notes in the middle spectrum, a single push of a pedal, and Farkas watches her disappear into herself once more.

She forgets about everything as she drifts between pieces, voicing the unspeakable, opening old wounds, playing and playing as the sound forgave and saved her. All the while, their arms stayed pressed together, his warmth fueling her fire.


	25. Chapter 24

Libby knew the scarlet dress was little scandalous. And she knew it was definitely _not_ appropriate for upcoming winter, given how low the front dipped, and how much lower the back went. Low enough to reveal through the black lace mesh that she wasn't wearing a corset beneath it.

But after what had transpired with Farkas, and after feeling – something – blossom in her breast, she wanted to dress as she felt. Not to mention she wanted to see the expressions of the rest of the Companions when she strolled in.

And this dress, with its close-fitting bodice, long sleeves, and gently flowing skirt, is about as new and different as it came. She never wore it before, Vex having given it to her when she was about seventeen. At the time, Libby didn't like its style, but now . . . with her "maturing" body . . . it wouldn't hurt to experiment. Her hair was left in loose curls, one side pinned back by a pearl hairpin. She wore simple silver ball earrings as her accessories, the dress itself now doubt willing to draw attention.

Which is why she couldn't help but smile as she headed for the front doors of her mansion and felt the eyes of her servants on her as she wrapped her cloak around her shoulders. She had to admit, she was a bit nervous, mostly because she was worried about the place that Farkas had chosen for their dinner tonight. Knowing him, it would be some tavern; but if he knew her, he should've picked something at least halfway decent.

After he had caught her playing the piano, after sitting in silence for what felt like ages, he had since departed, briefly asking her if she still wanted to attend dinner. Libby doesn't know what possessed her to say yes, but she did. Perhaps she wanted a distraction from the grief that she shared with the princess over those Khajiit rebels. The thought still weighing heavy on her heart.

She throws her hood over her head and exits her home, lifting the skirt of the dress as she walks. The ebony black of her cloak made the red stand out even more as she passed, keeping her coy smile intact. She kept her makeup simple, darkening her eyes and a highlighting her cheekbones, then with a simple pale pink pale lip color. Because she isn't about to smear Farkas' face with red, that is if things turn out that way –

The sun is just setting over the horizon of the Throat of the World, making the sky a lovely tangerine and pale purple. Mounting the steps to Jorrvaskr, Libby pushes open the doors and withdraws her hood. To her delight, most of the Companions are still in the main hall, gathered around the table. Eyes immediately go to her as she enters, and she gives her best innocent smile.

As she makes her way out of her cloak, she makes sure to angle her back away from the crowd – so they can get an eyeful of the exquisite black lace that covers the open back (and mostly covers her scars from Cidhna Mines). She feels the eyes of the servants on her, too, but pretends not to notice.

"Hello to you, too." She says as she folds her cloak over her arm.

She hears one male let out a breath – not Farkas – and she turns to find Torvar grinning, slowly shaking his head. "I think 'stunning,' 'beautiful,' and 'dazzling' are the words you're looking for."

Libby gives an appreciative smile as she descends the stairs, draping her cloak over the back of one of the available chairs. "So," she sighs. "is Farkas ready yet?"

Her arrogance grows along with her smile as the air stiffens. Farkas didn't tell them about their plans it would seem. Though a part of her understands why, she's more rather insulted that he didn't go around saying he had plans with Skyrim's Assassins tonight.

Over in one corner she sees Diamond with her eyes wide and her mouth agape enough to catch flies. She holds a mug in her hand, and she's dressed out of her usual chitin armor – replaced now with a lovely blue tunic and brown pants.

After their crazy ride, Libby felt that Diamond doesn't at least hate her anymore. But there's still a guard that Diamond has, and Libby doesn't know whether or not she wants to break past it. No doubt Diamond built those walls because of Libby, and she doesn't know if she has the right to even try to break them down.

She turns her head to Vilkas, who simply blinks. His eyes travel down the front of her dress, then back up. Then blinks again. "You're wearing that . . . for my brother?"

Libby snorts and deliberately walks past him, giving him a better view of the provocative back. "Oh yes. I am."

"I didn't even know you two had plans tonight."

"Well, now you do." Libby says as she angles her sight over her shoulder.

On perfect cue, the doors to the living quarters opens and footsteps come up and Farkas emerges. Even Libby is surprised at how well he looks. He's completely showered and washed himself as his face is clean of any dirt. He's dressed in a finely made tunic and jacket, enhancing his masculinity and broad shoulders.

His eyes nearly bulge out of his head when he beholds Libby. He was adjusting the cuffs of his jacket when they fell upon her, and Libby just couldn't stop the giggle as his eyebrows raised.

She approaches him, the skirt of her dress sweeping behind her. "Wow. You look great."

Farkas claps his mouth shut and clears his throat. "Thank you. I would return the compliment, but I just can't think of any that suits you."

Libby lowers her head and hunches her shoulders to appear bashful. She folds her hands in front of her and asks, "So, are we ready to go?" She whirls around as she asks, allowing the skirt to bloom and to give Farkas a look at the back of her dress.

"Yeah. Yes, I have the place picked and it's only a walk from Jorrvaskr." Farkas says. "If you don't mind the walk."

"I'll be fine." She smiles.

As Libby gathers her cloak, she can feel Farkas scanning the rest of the Companions, and a part of her feels rather guilty for exposing their plans, but only slightly. Farkas never clarified to her that he was coming to get her at her mansion, nor did he say whether they were to travel by carriage or by foot. Sometimes he's too simple-minded for his own good.

Libby whirls her cloak around her shoulders, concealing her back. Farkas meets her up at the steps and holds the door open for her. He motions her out and Libby thanks him. She pulls her hood up over her head, pulling on her gloves as the chill leeches away the warmth of the hall. She hated winter, mostly because she's forced to wear gloves so her skin won't get dry. Back in the mines, her hands got so dry and cracked that the simplest movement would have them bleeding.

Farkas extends out his arm and Libby takes it. As they descend the steps, she asks, "So, where are we going?"

"We're going to a place that I hope you like. I wanted to find the nicest place I could think of." Farkas answers.

While Libby is delighted he wanted to pick a place that would fit her standards, she worries about what he might've chosen. Usually the places she goes to are expensive or require a membership. Companion he may be, the places she goes to, they still expect some payment, even with a discount.

"Don't think you have to spend vast amounts of your money just to impress me. I can be very simple sometimes." Farkas looks to her dress, then looks back up to her eyes. Libby smiles and smacks his arm. "I promise. While I love delving in the heart of luxury, I'm just as likely to get my hands dirty as I am to raise a well-manicured hand."

Farkas chuckles as they two of them continue the walk into the Cloud District. Shops and stores come up left and right, large torches lining the cobblestone sidewalk. Guards nod their heads as they pass and Libby gives her best smile while Farkas returns the nod.

"They say that it's supposed to snow tonight." Farkas says, continuing conversation.

"I hope so. I hope more that it stays in time for Jolmus. It's not truly a holiday without snow, I feel." After a moment of walking in silence, she continues, "Will you at least tell me where we're going?" she asks.

"No." Farkas grins. "It's a surprise."

"Are you sure it's wise to surprise an assassin?"

"Only because I know you trust me." Farkas winks.

She would've smiled anyway, Libby tells herself as they continue walking. It really wasn't that much of problem as they reach the avenue holding the Deep Blue and a string of other expensive restaurants. But they didn't go to any of them. No, instead they walk past them and as Libby is about to ask where they were going for the third time, they turn a corner and her breath leaps out of her lungs as she beholds the building before her.

With its golden dome ceiling, a thin spire at its top bearing Whiterun's flag, the building is built in pale white stone, surrounded by intricately carved minarets with smaller buildings connecting to its sides. The theatre.

"What? Why are we –?" her words are cut off as Farkas continues to lead them inside. The bouncer standing outside immediately recognizes Farkas and nods his head, and lets them in without question.

Once inside, warmth immediately flushes her cheeks and she pulls back her hood, smoothing down her hair. A servant immediately takes her cloak and Libby gives her a thank you. She becomes aware of her back as the warmth tickles through the black lace, but she's too focused on the theatre's interior to care.

She hadn't set foot in the theatre of any kind since her parents had passed. She had unquestionably inherited their love of music; it was one of the reasons why she loved to play the pianoforte.

Her heart skips a beat when the thought occurs – Farkas had taken her here because he had heard her play. When she felt his weight on the bench beside her, it stopped her heart for a second, but afterwards, feeling his warmth beside her . . .

It surprised her at all how well her hands remembered how to play. She hadn't played since her father was killed. Occasionally, he would ask her to play for him as he poured over his documents in the Guild, or just to help him relax. She'd learned to play when she was ten – under her father's request that she find at least one refined skill – and had fallen in love immediately. After his passing, she never even went near a piano, forcing herself to be kept distracted with assignments and contracts.

This afternoon, after she had Farkas returned from their hunting trip, was the first time she had played in a long while. It's just with the sorrow for the princess, and the grief of those Khajiit, she needed another output besides slaughtering every Stormcloak that she saw. Music was her only release, the only way she can destroy herself and rebuild herself all at once. Her own way of feeling like she's home again while getting lost all at once.

Farkas' arm lowers, and Libby feels herself smile through her surprise and astonishment enough to feel his hand lace with hers. He leads her up a flight of carpeted stairs, and they are greeted by two servants as they approach a private box. They hand the two glasses of sparkling wine, and one of the Companions' acquaintances stops Farkas to say hello. Libby could tell Farkas didn't want to chat, but needing to uphold the Companions' reputation he asks Libby to head inside. Libby and strode through the crimson curtain and takes a seat closest to the stage.

As she sets her glass of wine on the armrest, she is still so stunned Farkas had managed to secure a seat. Their private box was on the side of the cavernous hall, near enough to the center so that she has an unobstructed view of the sage and the orchestra pit. She feels like she is ten years old again, sitting on her mother's knee as she watches the musicians prep their instruments and walk back and forth handing out the sheets of music.

She observes the floor below, taking in the glittering jewels, the silk dresses, the golden glow of the sparkling wine in flute glasses, the rumbling and murmuring of the crowd. If there was any other place where she felt most at home, if there was a place where she felt happiest, it is here, in this theatre, with the red velvet cushions and the glass chandeliers and the gilded dome ceiling high, high above.

Behind her she hears Farkas bid the acquaintance farewell and looks to her right as she descends the two steps and takes a seat next to her. He looks to her and smiles, almost smugly, and asks her, "So what do you think?"

"Well, you certainly blew away my expectations."

"What were they?"

"Um, you don't want to know." Libby coyly giggles.

Farkas doesn't take offense, he simply leans back in his chair and says, "Just wait, there's more."

"What –?"

Somewhere in the theatre, a gong sounds, and people hurry to their seats, quickly brushing kisses with each other and trying not to spill their glasses. The chandeliers are hauled upwards into the dome and dimmed, and the crowd quiets to hear the opening notes as the orchestra begins to play. A world of shadows and mist. A world where creatures and myths dwell in the dark movements before dawn.

Libby goes still as the gold curtain draws back, and at the center of the stage is a gorgeous and well-polished grand piano. Libby sets a hand on her chest as the player emerges from behind the curtains.

She is a lovely woman, set in her early thirties. She wears a lovely ice-blue dress that's off the shoulder with a large slit going up her right leg. She bows her head, her golden curls falling over her shoulder. A glittering headband pulling back her bangs.

The moment she sits down in the chair, the moment her foot sets on the petal, the moment her fingers set over the white keys, everything Libby knew and everything she was fades away to nothing.

The music annihilates her.

There are not dancers, not even actors. It's just the pianist and the orchestra. And the story it tells is certainly lovely. By the Divines – the _music_.

Has there ever been anything more beautiful, more exquisitely painful? Libby clenches the arms of her seat, her nails digging into the velvet. Her hear thundered with the pounding of the magnificent drum as the music hurtles towards its finale, sweeping her away in a flood.

With each beat of the drum, each trill of the flute, and blare of the horn, she feels it all along her skin, along her bones. The music breaks her apart and puts her back together, only to rend her asunder again and again. Her eyes never leave the piano player, watching her hands move along the keys, so fast, so light and so nimble . . . a skill Libby can only dream to attain.

And then the climax, the compilation of all the sounds she had loved best, amplified until they echo into eternity. As the final note swells, a gasp broke from her, setting the tears in her eyes spilling down her face. She doesn't care if Farkas saw.

Then, silence.

The silence was the worst thing she'd ever heard. The silence brings back everything around her. Applause erupts, and she is on her feet, crying still as she claps until her hands ache. She remains clapping even as Farkas stops and resumes sitting in his chair. The ovation continues for a while, with each section of the orchestra standing and bowing their heads, the pianist forever standing on stage, forever being showered with flowers. Libby claps through it all, even as her tears dried, even as the crowd began shuffling out.

If it weren't for the seat, Libby would've thrown every last coin to her if it meant she would play again.

Farkas doesn't abandon her, he merely sits in his seat patiently waiting, his eyes never leaving her face. But even after she finished clapping, Libby remained staring towards the curtained stage, watching the orchestra begin to pack their instruments. Farkas is still there, awake and watching.

They are the last ones to leave the theatre.

Words couldn't even begin to form in her mouth as she takes Farkas' hand as they left the theatre. She had at least managed to clean up her face and wipe away any smeared kohl. And she couldn't even form them, not when there was one last, unplanned, surprise for her as the bouncers opened the doors.

Libby thought she would cry again as snow gently falls from the skies.

The sky was bleak, the countless specks that rain down around her, each white flake highlighted against the black backdrop of the night, like a thousand falling stars in a dead sky.

It had only been falling for a short time as there were still small spikes of grass popping up from beneath the blanket of white. But there was still enough to cover the entirety of Whiterun. Libby didn't even care if her dress got soaked, she didn't care if the snow broke through her shoes. While she didn't like the cold, mostly due to those freezing nights in Cidhna Mines, she loved watching snow fall, she loved feeling it on her face, having it land in her hair, catching them on her tongue.

So she embraces the child inside of her and breaks away from Farkas to hurry a few steps ahead and begins to spin and twirl in the middle of the gently falling flurry. She smiles at the chill that runs through her black lace back. She spins and spins, the skirt of her gown blooming out around her in a circle of red. Her hood falls and her hair flutters in the wind.

She laughs and hops, skips and dances her way towards a gazebo already decorated with lights and carefully weaved strands of holly.

As she rotates, she stops when she sees Farkas leaning against one of the posts. He has his arms folded, simply smiling as he watches her. Libby looks to him, and despite her flushing cheeks, she continues to smile and giggle. "I – I don't even know what to say. I don't think words can even do me justice."

"I'm glad you had a wonderful time." he says as he mounts the steps and under the cover of the gazebo.

"Oh I had more than a wonderful time." Libby says as she hurries over and takes Farkas' hands. "I can't even tell you what this means to me. How – How did you even know about this pale? I thought it was beyond expensive and how did you even _know_ about the performance tonight –?"

Farkas chuckles, his white teeth gleaming in the moonlight. "You might be Skyrim's Assassin, but once you know where to look, you're a fairly easy book to read." He steps closer to her, their breath mingling in plumes of white. "After watching you play, after seeing the emotion you put into your playing, the passion I – it's as if I saw you for the first time. I mean, I really saw _you_."

Libby takes a nervous half-step back, Farkas' grip keeping her hands in place.

"I just couldn't think of any better place for you. Of course, I guess this means I have to do even better next time."

Libby giggles and steps into his arms. She wraps her arms around his torso, and moments later, his arms are around her. She rests her cheeks against his warm chest, hearing his heart beating though his tunic. "I'm afraid that nothing can ever compare to this experience." She dares to lift her head and finds him staring down at her. His eyes almost matched the waters of the Sea of Ghosts. "And I mean nothing."

Farkas' eyes narrow and his hands grasp her arms. She leans slightly away, and still smiles to give him assurance.

"This has been, unreal, for me. I haven't set foot in a theatre of any kind since –" her throat clogs and she chokes on her words. She covers her mouth with her fingers. "And I mean, the music was ethereal, and just the pianist. No one has done such a thing for me in I don't know how long." She sighs as her eyes begin to water again. "Farkas I can't thank you enough. It almost feels like you've helped me find a piece of myself that has long since been missing."

Farkas' hand comes up and brushes away her tears. Thankfully most of her eyeliner had been washed away in the theatre. "Libby," The sound of her name on his lips is enough to make her skin heat. His thumb caressing small little circles into her flame-hot skin. "I don't know what it is about you, but . . . from the moment I set eyes on you, I knew you were special. To see those eyes – _your_ eyes – to see them still fierce despite three years in hell, I've been walking towards this, walking towards _you_."

Libby's breath catches, and all she can think about is how soft Farkas' lips look despite the chilling cold. Farkas looks to her and gently twines her fingers with his before raising her hand to his lips. It is a soft, slow kiss that burns through her.

There is no controlling herself as she steps towards Farkas, lifts her chin and kisses him.

Just like the music, the kiss obliterates her all over again.

She feels every fiber of her being awaken at the sensation. Despite what anyone might think, she's never kissed anyone before. And as her lips meet his and he wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her closer against him, she honestly has no idea why she had waited. Farkas' mouth is warm and soft as she thought. His body is wondrously solid against hers, his chest beating with his heart as she rests her hands on it briefly, then extending her arms up to wrap around his neck.

Still, she remembers how to breathe, letting him guide her as he parts her lips with his own. When she feels his tongue brush against hers, she is so full of lightning she thinks she might die from the rush of it. She want more. She wants _all_ of him.

She can't hold him tight enough, kiss him fast enough. A growl rumbles in the back of his throat, so full of need she feels it in her core. Lower than that, actually.

Gods, this is what it feels like. How is it she had gone so long without this feeling?

As Farkas pulls away, her breathing is heavy, sounding as if she had just finished one of her long before-dawn runs. Farkas presses their foreheads together, feeling lost. Lost in a world he had only seen in his dreams.

He pets her head as she rests is against his chest. He thought he had seen it all when he witnessed her playing at her home, but to see her reaction to the orchestra – there was something deeper that he never thought he'd see. The music did more than show her true side, he knew it had connected to something deep within – something she probably didn't even know about herself.

What first started as a teasing dip in the water, has now evolved into a willing plunge into the oblivion that is Libitania. He wanted to explore each plain, each crevice, and each nook until he has her memorized in every way. He never wanted to let her go, even in the cold. And when he feels the scars of her back that bump even under the seductive black lace, he wanted to personally destroy Cidhna Mine; rip it apart stone by stone so that she'd never have to go back.

When the two of them finally decide to leave the gazebo, Libby locks both her arms around Farkas' one as they make the walk back to her home. She rested her head against his shoulder, kissing his lips whenever she lifts her head. He follows her up to her double wood front doors, and even then he held her one hand while the other pulled it open.

She turns to him as it's slightly ajar and asks, "Did you want to come inside?"

It wasn't what he thought it was. Far from it, in fact. Though this night had been one of the best, he could see the innocence in her eyes. Her dress might've stated otherwise, but Farkas knew she had to be a virgin. As innocent as a fresh bloomed daisy in the spring.

And the way her eyes look, she isn't looking for that – nor is he. She just wanted his company. She didn't want to end the night and have them go their separate ways. And neither did Farkas.

"It's just – the temperature is going to keep dropping, I assume. And I don't want you to walk all the way back for nothing." Farkas smiles as she is babbling. Truthfully, he did want to come in. he wanted to feel her warmth there when he fell asleep, and be there still when he awoke. And he did wish to sleep on a proper mattress rather than a pile of pelts. Though tolerance it may build, it also built up his back pain.

Farkas smiles and takes stakes the two steps towards her and kisses her lips. That was all the assassin needed as she tugs him inside. While Vilkas might flog Farkas for not returning, it'll all be worth it if he can just stay with her for the night.

Their hands kept together as they mounted the steps, Libby still talking about the music as they came to her bedroom. It's there she asks her servants to bring Farkas some night clothes as well as a tray of sweets. She temporarily leaves him to bath and change as she does the same. Farkas simply washes his face and pulls back his hair before changing into the comfiest night clothes he has ever worn.

He comes back out to find Libby with her face makeup free, her hair pulled into a small braid and dressed in a long, but close-fitting nightgown. Her scarlet dress simply cast aside on an armchair. The two of them climb into the bed, Libby throwing the down comforter over Farkas and they two nestle down.

Nothing gets physical, though there is still delicate kisses on the lips. Instead, the two of them lay there, their bodies pressed together, telling the other stories of their lives; all while sharing the tray of sweets. While Libby does give vague details on certain topics, Farkas doesn't pry. He simply looks at her eyes, tucks her hair behind her hears, and getting himself lost in that glorious ring of gold.

The two of them keep talking until they begin to yawn, and then before either of them knew it, they were asleep. Sometime in the middle of the night, Libby had awoken to find Farkas still with her, solidifying that it wasn't just a dream. This creature, this beautiful, powerful creature could actually be hers.

While there is still doubt in her heart, the darkest parts of her whispering secrets in vain, as she traces Farkas' strong jawline, seeing his chest expand and contrast with every breath, Libby still keeps wishing she had found him sooner.

* * *

Diamond's breathing heaves as she swings her warhammer through the air, quickly spinning it around the other way when it strikes the dummy in front of her. Sweat runs down the side of her face, dripping off her chin. Though it might've snowed last night, she wasn't going to let that stop her from training. Her and Libby's trip to the Glenmoril Witches is two days away now, and with how Libby had reacted, she needed to be ready.

Thankfully by the time she had gotten up this morning, the backyard of Jorrvaskr had already been shoveled. So she threw on some thick clothing and started training. She had been training for over an hour now. And her techniques are nearly perfect, if she was judging herself fairly.

Unfortunately though, her mind was still somewhere else. Farkas hadn't come home last night after his evening with Libby, of which Vilkas ranted about soon after they had left. Libby looked illusory in that red dress she had on. Diamond would've thought of her as an expensive courtesan, but with how she had carried herself, it was more of royalty. Diamond couldn't even wrap her head around what kind of place Libby had gotten that dress from.

And Farkas, he looked better than he ever has been the entire time Diamond has been in the Companions. His tunic, his face, his hair, it was all so – handsome looking.

Diamond swings her hammer into the dummy, ducking and spinning so her foot kicked out her opponents imaginary ones. Spinning the hammer in her hands, she slowly prowls around the dummy as if waiting for it to attack.

She spins her hammer around her neck and into her left hand, and prepares a final strike when a voice breaks out behind her. "You're getting good."

Diamond freezes and lowers her arms as she turns around. There she finds Vilkas standing under the awning of the deck, arms folded and leaning against the wooden support. She heaves her breathing before responding. "Oh, is that a genuine compliment."

"Merely an observation." Vilkas shrugs.

Diamond can't help the sneer on her lips. She turns her head back forward and continues to dance around the dummy. A part of her still resented Vilkas for his behavior since the Warrior's Festival. She can't get that dance out of her head. Though she has already summarized that he might've bene drunk off his ass, the words he said still buzz through her mind.

She swings left, then whirls, her foot connecting with the head of the mannequin seconds after. The blow would've knocked a man unconscious. Her annoyance easily boils and she asks. "Are you here to tell me something or are you just going to stand there and gawk?"

"I do have some news for you." Vilkas says.

Diamond lowers her warhammer and turns to him. "Then out with it."

Vilkas pushes off of the post. "Kodlak wants everyone to meet in the hall by noon. Says he has an important announcement for everyone."

"In regards to what?" Diamond asks, slinging her warhammer over her shoulders, resting both her arms on the long handle.

"He wouldn't say," Vilkas shrugs. "Just that it involves Jarl Balgruuf."

That is enough to get Diamond to roll her eyes. Usually something involving Jarl Balgruuf meant standing guard at a party for six hours, or to be security for some weak-necked lords. Diamond would sooner swallow skeever dung than do that. Hell, she'll even hang out with Libby for the day if it meant getting out of guard duty.

"Has Libby contacted you lately?" Vilkas then asks.

Diamond looks to him as he descends the steps. "No, why would she?"

"Well it's just, you went to her home a couple of days ago and you both returned with frazzled hair. Though it didn't look like you were in much of a scuffle."

"Are you curious because you actually care?" Diamond spites. What is she going? She has not real reason to act like this. She shouldn't be feeding into her anger, that's how she got set up on her mission with Libby.

"What makes you think I don't care?"

"Because you haven't given two shits about me since I joined up with The Companions, and now you're suddenly so curious since Libby arrived." Diamond swings her hammer, and this time when it connects with the dummy's head, it cracks its wooden neck.

"I'm being cautious because Libby is an assassin, Diamond. You should be careful around her too."

"Oh believe me," Diamond coldly laughs. "I know just how deceiving she can be." Another hard swing, and this time, hearing it crack against the dummy made Vilkas cringe. "But it's not like you need to worry about me, okay? You haven't before."

"That's not true, I have."

"Oh, really?!" Diamond suddenly bursts. She whirls around to Vilkas, not even caring about how close he had gotten to her. Had she known, she could've just rammed her elbow back and she would've struck him straight in his forehead. "Well you certainly haven't been doing a good job at showing it! All you've ever done is treat me like I'm dirt beneath your feet! Even after being welcomed into the Circle, even after accepting the beastblood, you still treat me like a whelp!"

"It would be differently if you only _acted_ like it Diamond!" Vilkas counters. "You might think you're the best, you might think you're a great fighter, but you are just nothing more than a _child_!"

At that moment, it was as if her anger has exploded. But instead of launching herself at him, instead of screaming to the heavens, Diamond only says. "Say that again."

Vilkas takes a step closer. "You are a _child_, Diamond. You are nothing more than a child. Matter of fact, you're a spoiled child! Thinking that just because Kodlak praises every little thing that you do, you're suddenly the best. But you're not."

"Oh! So this is about me stealing Kodlak's attention?" Diamond smiles cruelly and rather insanely. "Aww, does Vilkas feel abandoned because someone else became Kodlak's favorite? And I'm the child here?"

It has to be the cold. She's cold and hot and sweaty all at the same time. This isn't good why is she even bothering to say all of this?

"Yes, you are Diamond. And you are not Kodlak's favorite. You know what is it? He pity's you, Diamond. It's pity, because you come from a troubled past, where no one ever loved you. And now I can see why."

This is bad . . . this is –

"Who would ever love a child like you?"

Just like that, the world is swept out from under her. Like it has happened so many times before, she feels everything collapse inside herself.

And she can see him. That door in her mid that she keeps locked at all times has been cracked open by those sharp words. They cut her deep than any real blade, and now she's trying frantically to close that door.

The black ink, the blonde hair, those blue eyes that look like sapphires. Seeing his face, seeing him so near to her . . . the door is not shutting.

Diamond's hands start shaking, and the second her eyes start to water, she simply drops her warhammer and hurries up the steps inside.

She manages to catch a glimpse of Vilkas, and there is no triumph in his eyes. Merely regret. Good. He has crossed a line now.

Diamond hurries inside and down the steps to the living quarters, a sob escaping her lips.

The door is opening wider. His hair is darkened wish ash, shadows surround him. He coughs up ash, blood streaming from his nose – but his eyes, they are still so fierce

"No. No, no, please. _Please_!" she quietly whimpers as she makes her way towards Kodlak's living area, slamming and shutting the door behind her.

She still hears his bloodcurdling scream rattling inside her skull.

Diamond doesn't even make it to the bed before she slides to the floor in tears. Sobs – choked and loud and full of agony erupt out of her throat. Even when she clasps her hand over her mouth, they still hitch and fight their way out.

Malick.

The beautiful, stubborn, glorious assassin. One of the two brave souls that had helped her escape the cruelty that is Zusa Phoenix. His power, his strength, his will. His sacrifice.

Diamond bangs her head against the door, willing the images of him to go away. She curls her arms around herself in a self-embrace. Her chest heaves and tears drip off her chin. She wasn't successful in escaping Vilkas' cruel words.

_Who would ever love a child like you_?

He did. Oh, by the Divines he did. He had loved her more than anyone had ever lover her. He'd loved her enough to risk everything – to give up everything. He'd loved her so much that she still feels the echoes of it, even now.

Diamond manages to calm down enough that she pulls herself up off the floor and crawls into Kodlak's warm, welcoming bed.

Though she tries to distract herself, like trying to focus on how much her fist aches to bash Vilkas' teeth down his throat, the images of the once beautiful blue-eyed assassin still haunts her mind.


	26. Chapter 25

The sun rises over the castle, sending the entire foundation glittering and filling every chamber and hallway with its golden light.

It floods into Libby's chambers, the windows and balcony doors the primary source. It catches in Farkas' hair and makes it shine like polished bronze. His back muscles expand and contract as he breathes.

Propped up on one elbow, Libby watches him sleep. A smile that won't go away makes her cheeks ache.

Farkas' bare torso is magnificently tanned from the summer sun despite being covered by his layers of armor and tunics. Perhaps he got it while sparring in the courtyards, or swimming in the Hold 'luxurious' lakes.

Scars of varying lengths are scattered across his back and shoulders – some of them slender and even, some of them thick and jagged. Libby had once learned that there was story behind scars. And Farkas' speak of a life spent training and battling . . . His body is a map of his adventures, or proof of what growing up as an assassin was like.

Libby extends out her hand to trace directly down Farkas' spine, down to the very dimples at the bottom. Her finger bumps across some of the scars and she can't help but feel the phantom pain of her own scars along her back. Whoever – whatever – gave Farkas these scars, they'd be sorry. Farkas' shoulders shrug slightly and he turns to his other side so he is facing Libby. The assassin bites back a giggle.

She doesn't want to see another scar added to this body, to this flesh. She'd slay the perpetrator before they even drew their sword. And then she thinks, what would happen once Libby's buys out her contract, and she's free to go?

The thought hits like a punch in the stomach. Would things still be, strong enough to work out? Would Farkas give up his title as a Companion to be with Libby? Would Kodlak or Vilkas even let him go? Yes – Kodlak would. But would Farkas take it?

And that brings up another painful memory and reminder: Can she finally be free? Can they be free, and . . . together?

Maybe she can actually start to think about the future. The day that she will finally lay down their daggers and swords and arrows. The day she can flee and live a life without worry of being hunted.

Live free . . . with Farkas.

As Libby brushes her fingertips along Farkas' hairline, the Companion's eyes flutter open, and when he finds Libby watching him, he gives the assassin a sleepy smile. Without thinking, Libby follows the sudden skip in her heartbeat and leans in, pressing her lips to Farkas' forehead.

Farkas pulls her down, wrapping an arm around Libby's bare hip – her nightgown got rolled up – and brushes his nose against Libby's hair, and he breathes her in deeply.

"I'm hoping this means we're not going for a run." Farkas purrs into her hair. His voice is deeper than normal, signaling that he is only half-awake, and thinking about anything but Libby leaving him for a three mile run in the morning chill.

Libby giggles again and tilts her head to kiss Farkas' chin. This draws enough of a response that Farkas angles his head down to kiss back before pressing his lips into Libby's forehead and sighing again.

"I am, however, going to go into town soon. I want some new weapons, and a cloak for the oncoming weather." Libby says. Really, she could just be quiet, but something about annoying Farkas while half-asleep is oddly amusing . . . and, cute.

She feels Farkas' lips smile and look down at her. They kiss again and Libby smiles.

"So, does this mean that . . . you're mine?"

Farkas traces his finger around her hairline, down her cheek. "I've wanted to be yours since I first saw you. Or well, out of costume I guess." He grins.

Libby smiles back. "And you're sure?"

Farkas adjusts himself, propping himself up on his arm. "I've never been so sure of anything in my life."

"How can you be? I mean, after everything I've done, our battles, my reputation . . ."

"Because I got to see who you are." Libby's heart bumps into her throat as Farkas stares at her. "If you hadn't opened up, or if I hadn't seen who you really are, I'm afraid to say things wouldn't be the same."

Despite the small sadness in her chest, Libby smiles. "I think I can fairly say that you've barely scraped the surface of who I am, my dear Companion." she shifts forward and kisses just below Farkas' jawline.

"Well, I guess that's a small journey I can take for myself." Libby giggles again and the two kiss, slow enough to make Libby curl her toes. Farkas shifts to his back, his arm wrapped around Libby, his fingers tickling her shoulder. "Oh, before I forget, Kodlak wanted to speak with the Companions today at noon."

"Why?"

"I'm assuming to has something to do with the upcoming Julmas Ball." Farkas says, his world slurring as he yawns.

"A ball!" Libby exclaims. "How exciting!"

Farkas frowns. "I wouldn't get too excited, you're not allowed to go."

"What? Why?"

"It's nothing special, really. It's just a ball the Jarl hosts every Evening Star's holiday. And I think you know why you can't go."

"But I'm a member of the Companions now, I thought they have trusted me by now."

"Be grateful you can't go. Usually when we're invited we don't even get to have any fun. We're just stuck on guard duty."

Libby pouts, but then the thought occurs to her: she could possibly use this time to stock up on her research of the supposed rebels in the Hold. Despite her wanting to see everyone in luscious gowns, and seeing Nassari in a wondrous attire as well, she doubts the princess will even be there since the news of those Khajiit rebels is still fresh in her mind.

"How's the princess?" Farkas asks, as if he had read her mind.

"I don't know," Libby sighs. "I haven't spoken to her since she appeared in Jorrvaskr. I thought she'd want some space. Perhaps I'll check on her after the ball."

Farkas' hand moves to pet her head and Libby smiles as she stares at the Companion. There's a knock at her door and Libby straightens up and calls them to come in. A couple of her servants come in, breakfast trays already in hand. Libby smiles and Farkas adjusts himself under the sheets, crossing his legs.

The servants set the trays on the bed and bow before leaving. Farkas first goes for the small stack of pancakes, stabbing the tip of the knife in the middle. "It's times like this that I praise the pay you earn as an assassin."

"Is that a compliment? Libby smiles.

"More of an admiration. And at least you don't fight over food like everyone else." Farkas says and he stabs his fork into one of the sausages over on her tray. He takes it and pops it into his mouth before she can stop him.

"You brazen thief!" Libby says as she shoves Farkas' arm away too late.

The Companion merely finishes chewing before winking at the assassin. Libby can only giggle along with him as she takes a sip from her orange juice.

Later that afternoon, Libby and Farkas walk together into Jorrvaskr, Farkas leaving her to head down and dress into his armor. The Companions are all gathered in the main hall, signaling Kodlak is going to begin his lecture soon. Libby spots Diamond sitting in the lower level corner, looking rather . . . upset. No one else is around her, her only company being the mug in her hand.

Looking around the rest of the hall, Libby bites her bottom lip and approaches the blonde Companion. She looks rather nice, dressed in another pale pink tunic with lace on the cuffs of the sleeves and along the hem. Her hair is in loose waves, tucked behind her ear.

Her eyes look up as Libby approaches, but the assassin stands her ground. "Hey, what's wrong?"

Diamond stares at her, her eyes looking rather fatigued. They trail up and down Libby before meeting her own again. "Just thinking too much."

"I see." Libby says, nervously fidgeting with her nails. "Something you want to talk about?"

"Not with you." Diamond says, taking another swig of her mug. It didn't hold the venom that Libby is used to. But before she has the chance to continue, Diamond sets her mug on the table and gets up. "But, thanks." It's the only thing she gives before she walks past Libby and towards the table.

Libby turns and watches her as she walks past the table and heading towards the living quarters. She passes Farkas coming up the steps, now dressed in his usual armor once more. Libby simply sighs through her nose and takes an empty seat at the table. Farkas comes up to her, tracing his hand along her shoulders. Libby meets his hand and Farkas sits down next to her.

Diamond returns shortly with Kodlak and the warriors gather around as always. Vilas enters the room, and Libby can sense Farkas stiffening. They lace their fingers under the table and Libby gives them a reassuring squeeze.

"Good afternoon everyone. Now, I presume you've each gained a rough assumption of why were are all here today. As annually, Jarl Balgruuf is hosting a ball on Julmas and we are to attend. Now I know you are all used to guard duty, but I would like to take a different approach to our line of duty today."

Several of the female Companions eyes brighten at Kodlak's words, a couple of the males resting their cheeks on the back of their hands, intrigued.

"I would like some volunteers to go and actually dress appropriately as a test to going undercover. I want to see if it heed better results."

"Results of what?" Libby asks.

"If ever the Jarl or his guests are targeted." Kodlak says. "And I'm afraid, Libitania, that this one of the few occasions where I must say you must stay home this time."

Libby simply shrugs her shoulders. "I should've seen it coming. Kinship only stretches so far."

"Now," Kodlak smiles and claps his hands. "who would like to be our volunteers."

Ria immediately raises up her hand, smiling ear to ear. Torvar is next, smiling smugly, possibly thinking about all of the mead and ale he'll be free to taste as a guest. And then Diamond raises her hand, her expression blank, but the tiniest glint of excitement in her eyes.

"Alright, if there are no more volunteers, then I would like each of your to go and well, shop. There's a couple of shops that sell decent clothing. Also, Libby ad Diamond, before I forget, your missions to Glenmoril Coven will be delayed due to this. I'll let you know when I'm ready to reassign it to you."

Libby can't say she was disappointed. He can delay the mission to the witches all he wants. And a childlike giddiness bubbles in Libby's breast as she thinks about taking Diamond shopping. Of course no one asks Kodlak if he is lending any coin, because hopefully the business of the Companions is enough for decent shop keepers to lower the price dramatically.

"Now the party is tomorrow, so I recommend you start your shopping now. Be safe."

When Kodlak heads dismisses the Companions, Libby smiles as Ria hops her way over to her and Farkas. "This is so exciting. We actually get to enjoy ourselves at the party."

"Don't forget we're still on guard duty. Even if we're dressed like the company." Farkas says.

"Oh, yes of course. I'm just so excited. I haven't worn a gown in . . . gods, I don't know how long." Ria smiles. "Not all of us can enjoy the softness of a gown like you, Libitania."

Libby smiles. "I wouldn't say they're comfier than armor. Those corsets crush my ribs."

"Why don't you come with us, Libitania?" Ria asks. "It's obvious you know more than one thing when it comes to dressing of high standards."

Libby smiles, trying to resists giggling with glee as she feels Farkas rub her thigh. "I would love that, Ria. Thank you."

The Companion smiles brightly and nods her head before she excuses herself to go and fetch her coin purse. Libby pats Farkas' knee and the two share a brief kiss before Libby get sup from her seat. As she takes her cloak, she accidentally picks up a pink one as well. It drops to the floor and as she's about to pick it up, another hand already takes it. The hand was more colored than Libby's her, the assassin briefly disappointed she hasn't gained any color despite her times outside. Libby looks and finds Diamond already wrapping the cloak around her shoulders. She only casts a glance at Libby as she clasps it securely.

The assassin doesn't say much as she secures her own clasp and pulls her hood over her head. Farkas comes up and takes her hand, Ria coming up from the living quarters with her coin purse secure. Torvar finishes his last goblet of mead and meets the rest of them. So it's Diamond, Ria, and Torvar. Then the rest of the Compaions will be going normally and on guard duty.

Vilkas comes up the steps and Farkas gives him a questionable look, but not letting go of Libby's hand. "Vilkas, you're coming with? I thought you weren't going to dress up."

"Doesn't mean I can't come along."

"It does." Farkas bluntly says. "We can discuss it later."

Then even Libby is caught off guard when Farkas leans in and kisses her cheek. She can only spare Vilkas a short look before Farkas pulls her through the front doors. Everyone files out after and they make their way down to the shopping area of the Cloud District. Immediately Libby spots her favorite stores within a forty yard distance. Oh how she loved this avenue, where all the fine things in the world re sold and bartered! Jewelers, hatters, clothiers, cobblers . . . the glass storefronts a preview of the wondrous clothes and things they hold.

Each window displays dresses and tunics, which stand proudly behind lines of sparkling jewels and broad-rimmed hats clumped together like bouquets of flowers.

While Diamond and Ria walk ahead, gazing at the different clothing gleaming in the windows, Libby wraps her hands around Farkas' arm, well aware of Vilkas behind them with Torvar.

"Oh this is so exciting. I've never shopped for a dress before." Ria exclaims excitingly.

"You're joking." Libby says.

Ria turns around, her smile wide from cheek to cheek. "Unfortunately I am. The last time I wore a dress, I was just a little girl. And once I joined the Companions, wearing dresses and fine tunics seemed, odd."

Diamond smiles, turning her head towards the storefront of one shop with a stunning pink gown on a headless mannequin. Accompanied by jewels and glittering shoes, it was eye-catching. Libby tilts her head as she stares at Diamond, then Ria suddenly speaks.

"So, you've never shopped before?" Libby asks.

"Well, no I have shopped. All of us have. It just hasn't been for clothing." Ria nervously laughs.

"You might need more help than I thought." Libby smiles.

"Hey, we might be warriors," Torvar interjects. "But we still know how to present ourselves."

"I might have to argue against that." Libby says as she notices the bottle of mead strapped to his waist.

"Well, why don't you take us to one of your stores, Libby? I'd love to see the places you shop." Ria suggests.

"Are you sure?"

"Why not?"

"Well, it's just . . . the places I go to . . ." how exactly is she supposed to say this without offending them – if she can at all. "They're very . . . refined."

"What are you saying, assassin?" Vilkas says behind her.

For a moment, her heart thunders with nervousness – until she feels Farkas' hand on her lower back. "You're just worried we might be too, dirty for them?"

Libby bites her bottom lip. "They're usually fine with me, but that's because they know better."

"I doubt they would belittle The Companions." Farkas smiles.

Libby tries her best to smile back. "Um, you'd be surprised. Their confidence borderlines stupidity. The only way I got them to even listen to me at all was through intimidation – if you know what I mean."

A part of Libby still wonders if that one woman whose eye she stabbed out is still working there. The women of the shop were the typical snot-nosed wretches who look down upon others who don't meet their stature. Even though Libby isn't one for violence by means of cooperation, she has a very short fuse for spoiled bitches. She was seventeen at the time, and Vex had taken Libby to the shop to look for dresses for a party she was supposed to infiltrate.

The women had greeted her, took one look at her attire (not her Guild uniform) and laughed. They immediately began with the insults and annoying cackling that makes Libby grate her teeth. It took Libby stabbing and slashing at two employees for the women to shut up and cower before her. They certainly changed their tune when they realized who exactly she was – Libitania Desidenius, Skyrim's most notorious assassin. Thankfully with Vex being her partner there, she didn't say a word to Brynjolf about what transpired. Libby had to admit, she still loved the way the women cowered and begged for her forgiveness and mercy.

"But I'm sure they're better by now." she quickly follows. From what she remembers, there's a new owners there of who Libby got acquainted with right away, and this time she didn't even need to draw her dagger.

"I'm sure we can take it. Besides, once they see that we're with you, they'll change their tune." Ria says.

Libby smiles and breaks away from Farkas to stand at the front of the group. She's level with Diamond who still has her hands tucked into her pockets, her expression cool. "Okay, I would be more than happy to take you to my favorite emporium. But first things first: we need to get you all cleaned up."

Each Companion but Farkas looks at themselves, and before the questions can begin, Libby takes Farkas' hand and takes the lead of the group. Thankfully, with an excited Ria tugging along Diamond, the rest follow without much complaints. But there are some eyes rolled.

When they finally reach the Libby's preferred beauty shop, the moment she walks through the door, the shop fills with squeals of excitement. The workers all spread word of Libby arriving and almost immediately, one closes the shop door and flips the sign to signify they are closed.

Apparently, Libby is important enough to rent out the entire shop. Diamond steps closer to Ria as she beholds the flamboyant trio of stylists that brush kisses with Libby as well. She nearly cowers behind Ria when Libby introduces them.

The three stylists look to her, eyes widening, smiles broadening and hands fanning themselves from the excitement. Someone from behind, possibly Torvar, pushes Diamond forward and she stumbles into the throng of colorful hair and long, fake nails. Diamond nearly snarls when the nails pinch her cheeks and ruffle her hair and feel her arms.

"Oh my goodness gracious, feel her muscles!" says one plump woman dressed in a gown of cobalt and peach. Her hair is short and pulled back by a red headband and falls in a ponytail of ringlets.

"Never mind her muscles, would you look at her eyes! You could almost be related to my cousin! And she is a woman of _fine_ taste, let me tell you." says another woman, this one lean and tall with her hair cut into a style that would suit a woodland pixie. A crown of flowers encircles her head, the white petals making her night black hair stand out even more.

"And this hair!" says the third, an older woman. Old enough to have wrinkled, knuckled hands and crow's feet by the corners of her eyes. Her hair is a pale grey, kept under control by a ruffled bonnet. "You can never find such gold except from the mineral or even the sun itself!"

Diamond forces herself to smile sweetly as she hears the snickers of the Companions; and when she turns her head, she finds Libby simply smiling. Then the women's attention is brought to Libby, and they immediately swarm to her like bees. Libby doesn't swat them off; instead, she gives her best smile and speaks to the women on why they're here.

"Ladies," she claps. The three women turn to her and stand tall like dogs. "I'm going to trust you with my friends. I don't want them completely different, just . . . presentable by royal standards."

"Of course, My Lady." Bows the plump woman. "You have nothing to worry about!"

"And what are you going to do?" Farkas asks.

"I'm leaving you in their capable hands. I'm not just going to be sitting on my ass while you're all pampered. I'll be back in time with some food, because this will take a while." says Libby. Farkas gives her a sly grin and goes up to her, kissing her for a moment before smiling.

With that, she whisks away with a quick wave and words of luck, leaving the Companions to the faithful servants. They are each swooped way into separate rooms, Diamond's nerves growing. She is swooped towards the back of the shop and literally stripped of all of her clothes.

"Hey –!" she's barely given time to protest before they throw a soft robe on her and a hand is guiding her deeper into the back of the shop.

"This way, please. Wouldn't want your relaxation to be tainted." The plump woman smiles.

She is guided by the women through a door and into a larger chamber she didn't think was a part of the shop. Inside, there's a small set of stairs that lead up to a large square tub with a trickling of water coming from the ceiling and bordered by cream tiles. The water of the tub is cloudy with an oil that nearly makes Diamond slip as she steps down into the tub. Around the tub are chair that are curved to be lying down with fluffy pillows and chair that surround the chairs. Lily flowers float on top, following the ripples of the water. Towels are hanging on the thick columns and some are wrapped in rolls stacked on top of one another.

The warmth of the water swallows her and they delicately place a neck pillow behind her head. As they let her body soak, two of the women nestle on either side of her and begin to file her nails into uniform shapes, and massage her hands with a lavender smelling lotion. Then the time comes for them to scrub down her body with a gritty foam.

They nearly scrub away not only dirt, three layers of her skin. Her back is given a deep tissue massage that nearly makes Diamond groan with pleasure, then they take a thin thread and begin shaping her eyebrows and trimming her gold hair. Her face is smeared with a green cream that smells of cucumber and melons, and slices of the cucumber are placed on her eyes. One of the women sets a retainer into her mouth filled with a cream that's supposed to make her teeth whiter. All the while, she can hear the music of a harpist in the background.

Had she known this kind of luxury existed – or that it was so close to her home, she would've come here sooner. But then, reality clicks, and then remembers that this place had to be _extremely_ expensive. Of course, Libby can afford it. Her wealth seems bottomless to Diamond now. But she's not one to let something as good as this pass her by, so the Companion relaxes and allows the women to make her anew.

By the end of it, her skin feels tingling but smooth and she's greased down with a lotion that leaves her skin feeling like polished marble. She feels cleaner, she smells like a fresh fruit salad and it does feel as if all of the oils and dirt and grease has been extracted from her body.

Diamond stands there, completely naked as the three women step back and smile to each other. "Excellent!" says one.

"Gosh, you just keep getting more and more beautiful! I swear, you have such amazing muscles and still you have a wondrous form. Oh, how I would die to have that!" chimes another.

Diamond smiles sweetly again as they give her freshly cleaned clothes and escort her out to the main room. When they emerge, all heads turn to them, and Diamond must look as clean and refreshed as she feels, because everyone's eyes get bigger and Libby places her palms to her cheeks as she gazes in awe. Diamond looks to one of the mirrors of the hair stylists and is just as surprised.

She is now flushed with color, her eyes bright even though she can still see a clouded barrier inside them. And though she gained the weight, her face is leaner.

Vilkas is the first to approach her, and he smiles gently to Diamond. "You almost look human now."

Despite herself, Diamond smiles. He looks handsomer, everyone looks so much better. All cleaned and groomed and plucked and shaped anew. Their faces look smoother, their clothes are new and freshly pressed, and though she somehow misses the grime and dirt, she loves the sight of her clean and professionally trimmed nails.

"Beautiful." Libby's voice speaks. Diamond look to find the assassin seated in a wicker chair with peacock feathers fanning out like the tail of the bird itself. She rises from the seat and approaches the Companion. "You look, beautiful." She smiles.

Diamond slightly returns the smile and nods her head. After Libby pays and thanks the three women, they leave the beauty salon and follow Libby towards her favorite dress emporium.

The door creaked, and a belt of rusty bells clang as they entered the shop.

Inside, the musty air held an antique thickness, and the scent of perfume and freshly washed silk combined to make breathing a chore. The front room stretched before them long and wide, lined with rows of tall, sturdy manikins that posed with elegant dresses and gowns. Overhead in the chandelier, the tired light of torches burned a dull gold, adding little relief to the accumulated shadows.

Squeals erupt as the employees all rush to Libby and call towards their mistress to come and see. Again, one girl flips the sign so others think the shop is closed. Carefully, Diamond steps around a mound of bejeweled slippers near the door. The Companions moves between two sewing machines as they try to keep up with Libby.

Their gazes pass up and over the marked spines of countless dummies, every item categorized by its own number and date, and it made them feel almost as though they are walking through catacombs. When they reach the end, they peer around a three-way mirror to see a counter. Well, really, they see a lot of fabrics piled on top of something that at one time must have been a counter.

"Quite the organized set up." Diamond snickers.

"Trust me, they'll be fine." Ria assures.

Diamond has to jog two paces to keep up with Libby as she effortlessly weaves around the people and dummies. Then they come to an open area surrounded by more mannequins and swaths of silk. Up ahead, Libby is walking towards what has to be the owner of the shop.

The head mistress, a tall, gorgeous red-head dressed in a cerulean gown, approaches Libby with open arms and a genuine smile. She looks to be in her mid-thirties, and her lips are as red as a rose.

"Oh my goodness, my dear we have much to discuss." Says the woman, her hand sets on Libby's shoulder and Diamond can see long, scarlet nails. Libby smiles bashfully; she had to have known about Libby being sent to the mines. Practically all of Tamriel knew.

"Everyone, this is Red. She's the owner of the store." Libby introduces.

Red bows low, revealing her thick cleavage and spilling her cascade of red curls around her shoulders. "It is my honor to be hosting the Companions of Whiterun. But what brings you all to my shop?"

"Well," Libby says with slight excitement. "They are going to be attending Jarl Balgruuf's ball on Julmas, and they have been allowed to actually enjoy themselves."

Red gasps dramatically, setting a hand on her chest and forehead. "Oh, how marvelous! How I adore royal parties. The food, the music, the décor – and the chance to see the latest fashion trends." She says humorously.

"And you're going to be in charge of cleaning them up enough." Libby smiles.

"Oh, a challenge. Libitania, you don't disappoint." Red says with a hand on Libby's shoulder. The assassin laughs.

This woman had to be knew, because Diamond knew that if she was around while she and Libby were still friends, Libby would've brought Diamond here a long while back. This shop is by far her favorite, and that's just from seeing the dresses in the window. But no doubt it's probably the most expensive.

With a clap of her hands, Red has several girls around the group in seconds. "Ladies, we have a big order." She says. "Let's get these warriors set for the ball!" she turns to the Companions. "You all need more, suitable outfits, this is the place."

Farkas frowns. "What's wrong with our outfits?"

"Nothing. It's very . . . nice. It's just that if you wish to look presentable and with a little more style, we have some robes for you that'll be perfect. Come on!" Red claps her hands again and once more they are swooped in the arms of the girls, each taken to a separate part of the store.

As Diamond is being escorted past Libby, her arm reaches out and brushes Libby's hands, folded in front of her. The touch is brief but she feels a small spark – and Libby must feel it too, because she looks to the Companion surprised. But after a few heartbeats, she follows Diamond and her trio of kidnappers.

Diamond looks back, and her nerves rush as she sees a mischievous look on Libby's face.

Diamond's attendant – whose name is Kita, suggests Diamond wears a girdle so that they could try and find her fitted size. Why they couldn't just measure her the way she assumes they would, she doesn't know.

The thing itself was torturous.

Her newly acquired clothes are folded on a table with one drawer and a measuring tape rolled neatly next to a pincushion with multicolored pins poking out of it. Another is around Kita's neck.

Her hands grips a stool while the woman mercilessly pulls and tugs at the strings of the piece of clothing until Diamond could barely breathe. The rough linen threads scrape against her skin, digging so hard into her skin that she believes it is red and throbbing. She gasps and grunts into her teeth as Kita keeps tugging.

She always assumed she was thin from her eating, but apparently not as much as she thought; though she can't say she calls it a relief at the moment.

"If you're trying to cut off my circulation, you've succeeded!" she grits her teeth.

"I know, I'm sorry, but we need this if we want to take your measurements." Kita insists. "Not much longer I promise."

Diamond looks to Libby, the Companion's face moist with sweat. "You go through this?"

"Not all the time, but you get used to it." Libby answers nonchalantly. There's a tray of finger food next to her, and Libby takes a delicious looking piece of chocolate and pops it into her mouth.

"How?!" even when she was going under disguise for the Dark Brotherhood, she never went through torture like this! She's almost regretting volunteering for the ball.

Finally Kita tugs one last time and holds it. Diamond takes deep breathes, but her stomach can't even expand an inch with this restricting around her abdomen. Few beads of sweat bud on her temples and she tries to hold still as Kita helps her stand straight so that she takes the Companion's measurements.

"Hold your arms out." She instructs.

"I can't breathe." Diamond croaks.

"I know, just hold on." She says, her face placid.

Diamond decides to hold her breath; slowly exhaling and inhaling so that her breathing expands her shoulders than her stomach. Suddenly Kita pokes her between the ribs. She squeaks and instinctively claps her arms to her sides.

"Oh relax dear. Now come on, the sooner we can get this done, the sooner this comes off."

Diamond sighs and holds out her arms horizontal. Kita loops the tape around Diamond's waist and drew it in snug. She strips the tape away and pulls a pen out of her bun to mark a pad of paper. Libby peeks at the paper.

"My, you're more toned than I imagined." She says.

Diamond clamps her arms in against herself like chicken wings as the seamstress fusses around her. "Is it always like this – Ow!" She jolts as Kita pinches her right on the fleshy part of her underarm.

"Mostly for like layered skirts. Anything like tunics, they just measure you." Libby answers, a smug look on her face.

"I'm starting to regret this." Diamond murmurs. Then she feels Kita take the tape and string it around her bustline. "Hey!" she reflexively smacks the seamstress's hand away.

"Oh, I hate you," Kita grumbles, making a note on the sheet of paper. She pulls the tape away again, this time drawing out one of Diamond's arms to measure its circumference. Scowling, the Companion gave up with a huff, resigning herself to be handled and measured and cataloged.

Then Diamond watches as Kita leaves for a moment and later brings back several clothes that are heavily embroidered, and luxurious. Precious gems would have been sewn into the clothing as well - pearls, silver and gold too. A term known as 'blinking' their clothes. A fur hat the best ermine, trimmed with finest feather available; belonging to a bird Diamond didn't even recognize. Embroidered finery and ruffs and fancy collars.

Soon the girdle was finally ripped from her skin. While the girls went to fetch the fabric, Diamond spent the next minute gazing at herself in the mirror and massaging her pulsing skin red with the linen. She circles her shoulders and cracks her neck.

Libby comes walking up with a simple blue silk robe folded in her hands. Diamond looks to her, a brief need to cover herself in her underwear, but then notices the robe. "For you." Libby approaches.

"Thanks."

While Diamond shrugs it on, she adjusts and secures the tie around her waist. He sighs and steps down from the stage.

"Geez, if it's going to be like this for the Julmas ball I might not just not come."

Libby simply smiles sadly. "Oh this isn't for the ball. This is just for something in general."

"What?! You made me go through all that for nothing?"

"It wasn't for nothing." Libby smiles mischievously. "Now that have your measurements on file. They'll be able to make a dress of your choosing whenever you want."

They spend the next hour roaming the store while waiting for Torvar and Ria's dresses to be finished. Meanwhile Kita teaches Ria the basic understanding of fabric and who wear what in the social standing of the kingdom.

Libby musters about how most of it seems ridiculous, and that the rich should donate their old clothes to the poor. Farkas agrees, but he could tell that Libby was upset about how much clothing the rich have while the poor stick to earing old rage and dirtied tunics from the trash.

She can count on both hands the number of times she's seen beggars in the street asking only for a spare septum or two, yet people simply walk by as if they're nothing more than rats. Some even kicking dirt to the people and spitting in their faces. Libby always hated that sort of treatment. So what if they're poor, they're still people.

Despite herself, Diamond wanders through the gorgeous dresses set on the mannequins, gleaming gems along their skirts and claiming the bodices in whorls of colors. There is one attire that consisted of a style adopted from Hammerfell. Red allows Diamond to try it on and she accepts excitedly. Diamond giggles to herself at the curled-toe shoes on her feet. They did look nice, the emerald silk thread embroidered on the show would defiantly make it stand out.

Libby even offered a couple of outfits designed for Elsweyr royalty, and truthfully, they were one of Diamond's favorites, as they were just simple colors of the earth with many intricate accessories and detailed whorls of thread. Though, after what had happened with those Khajiit rebels, and with several Nord dignitaries visiting, some would take is as a symbol of rebellion.

Finally when the clock chimes four in the afternoon, Red calls to Torvar and Ria that their outfits are ready.

Ria was going to wear a dress varying in the sea-green to midnight-blue sector, and pearl white shoes to colorfully contrast that. Kita had Torvar try on suit after suit, jacket after jacket. One royal jacket that was in a mango-orange with gold etiquettes and had red pants with a gold stripe, a golden belt, black boots and white opera gloves.

"Wow, not bad" Torvar breathes. He turns to examine his back and holds out his arms.

"Walk around, see how it fits." Kita says.

Torvar walks, runs in a circle, swing his arms about. "Yeah, it's fine. Fits perfectly."

"See, the girdle was all part of it." Kita assures looking to Diamond, but the Companion gives her an amused glare. At least she wasn't the only one suffering.

Ria runs her fingers over the smoothness of the fabric of her arm and fidgets with the skirts. "This is, amazing."

Libby can't help but smile as Ria audits herself. The way she reacts to the luxury of the upper class is, cute. "You like it?" Libby asks.

Ria can't hide the gratitude smile. "It's, amazing. Thank you." She turns to face Kita and Libby. "Thank you."

"Alright!" Libby claps her hands. "If that's it, all we have to do is pay for the ensemble and we'll be on our way."

Red nods and guides Libby towards the front to pay.

"Wha – Wait, Libby!" Ria calls. But the assassin simply waves her hand, not even looking back as she follows Red.

Kita neatly folds up the gown and suit for Ria and Torvar, then expertly secures them with string. Diamond's shoulders slump in disappointment, but Ria rubs her shoulders. "Don't worry Diamond, we'll find you something."

The Companions give them their regards as they leave the shop. The chiming of the bells in their wake.

Outside, the sky is a mixture of pale orange and pink with purple clouds. The cool air of the oncoming night dwindling through the alleyways and crevices of the townhouses as the sun settles on the horizon. Deep greens and royal blues mingle to stands that have actual tables and silk banners on posts to advertise. The road is of clean cobblestone with spits of grass sprouting from crevices. Libby looks around, flicking the sides of her hood so that it conceals half of her face as a profile glance.

While the girls stop at a local baker's stand, Farkas wanders over to a jewelry stand with a display case at the forefront of the stand. A gorgeous silver emerald necklace is sprawled at the center, on either side, silver rings with amethyst and ruby gemstones. Over in the back of the tent, Farkas can see a bowl filled with sapphires, garnets, diamonds and emeralds.

"Shiny trinkets for your good lady!" the barter calls. She's a woman of her fifties, crow's feet near her eyes. She looks to Farkas and smiles. "Come to buy a trinket for that special someone?"

"Oh no, I'm just looking." Farkas gently smiles.

"Ah, but you have someone special. Well, buy one of these, and they're sure to fall for you." She presses.

"You'd be surprised." Vilkas' voice interjects. Farkas grunts in annoyance as he turns to face his brother. "He sometimes has bad taste in women."

"Please, tell me how you really feel." Farkas snarls. The woman, sensing the palpable tension in the air, simply reduces to the back of her stall, looking like she's indulging into a book. Farkas leans against the table, folding his arms. "Alright, tell me what you want to say."

"Farkas," Vilkas says as he approaches. He keeps his voice low, but it is heavily laced with anger as he speaks through his teeth. "What could you possibly be thinking?"

"I'm thinking that I care about her." Farkas retorts with as much venom. His eyes flick to the trio of girls now munching on what smells like garlic bread, Diamond looking at the bread as if she discovered a bug in it.

"For gods' sakes Farkas, she's an _assassin_! Why can't you remember that?!" Vilkas hisses.

"Because I've _seen_ her." Farkas says, his voice calm like Libby had explained to him one day while they were cuddled in one of her lounge areas. "You might see her as a deadly assassin, but I've seen past that. I've seen the person that is inside. I've seen her scars, I've seen her vulnerability, I've seen her when she is most broken."

"That's preposterous! How do you know she's not tricking you?"

When Farkas looks to his brother, the anger he feels must be as absolute as it feels, because Vilkas' expression shifts dramatically. "How dare you say that." His voice is low and gruff. "How dare you make that assumption? You don't know the things she's told me! The things she has witnessed! She has suffered through _three years_ of slavery, and yet you think she would lie about something so personal?! You look at the scars on her back and tell me that she is faking that! She makes me feel pathetic, yes, but now how you see it. What she told me – all of the pain and torture and darkness of her past – that is still a _fraction_ of what she completely endured!"

His voice is rising, but Vilkas is shocked and taken aback.

"I don't care what you think, I don't care what you say. There is something more to her, and I'm and willing to explore it until my dying breath. I care for her, Vilkas. And if you don't approve of that, then it's your problem to bear. Not mine. My mind is made up."

Vilkas swallows, taking deep breathes through his nose. And then he simply walks away. His armor and sword slinking behind him.

"What else do you got for sale?" Farkas asks as he turns his attention back to the woman. She rises from her seat, closing her book and approaches the front.

"Just what I have on display, really." She replies. She ducks down and pulls forth another display box with two circlets inside. One of sapphire and emerald, the other a ruby and diamond. Farkas' thumb twitches. "What better way to express your love than with beautiful gemstones."

Farkas gives a small smile.

Hours later, until the sun is swallowed by the horizon, the Companions return to Jorrvaskr lugging hat boxes, colorful bags full of perfume and sweets, and brown parcels with books that Libby claimed she _had_ to ready immediately. They've spent almost every last copper of their earnings, shoes, hats, tunics, dresses jewelry, weapons, baubles for their hair, and books. Vilkas storms in and past them and down into the living quarters without a word. Farkas comes in behind, carrying the rest of Libby's purchases.

"Gods above." Kodlak chuckles, taking in all of the purchases.

"You don't know the half of it." Ria smiles. "This is just what we could carry.

"More have bene ordered, and more will be delivered soon." Libby smiles as she steps around Ria's gathering to set her own down at the end of the steps.

"It's nice to see you all had a successful trip." Kodlak smiles.

"Well, some more than others." Diamond disclaims as she heads down the steps, her arms looking relatively empty compared to the haul Libby has. "I didn't find anything worth wearing. Or well, nothing I can afford."

"I'm sorry, little cub." Kodlak says with comfort rubs on her back. "Well don't fret, you still have tomorrow to continue."

"I don't know about that." Ria says. "No doubt the shops will be crowded with last-minute shoppers."

"Thank you, for that vote of confidence, Ria." Diamond says with a sarcastic fist pump to the air.

Ria shrugs. "I'm just saying. I'm just so happy with my purchase." She says as she reaches into the bag containing her dress. She hauls it out, careful not to knock into any flames and the hall hums with awes.

Ria's dress is a strapless dress that drifts from shades of sea-green to midnight-blue, starting from the bodice down the hemline of the skirt. With its rippling skirts, the colors wean together into a tasteful mesh. The bodice gleams with sequence, tracing in patterns of flowers with a mint green sash hugging the waist.

"Oh my, that is going to look wonderful on you Ria." Aela compliments. "And Torvar, I hope you've found something as fitting."

"Oh definitely." That is all he says with a smug smile. Or possibly a drunken smile.

"I must say you all look freshened up as well. I've never seen you all so clean."

"It was all Libby." Ria says as she puts a hand on the assassin's shoulder. "She took us to this wonderful spa where we were given baths and scrubs and massages – it was wonderful!"

Libby smiles and sets her hand Ria's. "Oh, before I forget, I have to head downstairs." With that, Libby takes a bag and descends into the living quarters.

"Had I known she was giving free money I would've gone with you." Njada says as she folds her arms.

"Not like she'd give you anything anyway." Farkas snaps as she drops the bags and sits at the table. "I do wish she could come. I would love to see her in another dress."

"I'm sure you would" Athis says with a waggle of his eyebrows. Farkas responds with a vulgar gesture of his fingers and the Dark Elf chuckles.

"Well," Diamond grunts with a clap on her knees. "I'm going to go to bed."

"Oh don't fret, little cub." Kodlak says, taking her hand. "I'm sure you'll find something. But if not, you'll still look good in whatever you choose."

Diamond is about to respond, until Vilkas' words echo in her mind. And he withdraws her hand and simply gives a terse nod. She ruffles her expertly designed hair, still loving the smell of peach and melon that those trio of women massaged into her scalp. Her heart sinks as she pushes her way through the door, thinking about how she's ever going to find a dress in time.

She instantly turns right and heads further down the hall to Kodlak's quarters, ready to just plump in her bed and shut her eyes. She can't keep sleeping in his bed, she knew that, but she just wanted to be somewhere where she didn't have to look at Ria's gorgeous dress and have jealousy writhe in her heart.

She removes her boots, kicking them under one of the display cases off to her left, and as she's taking off her rings and unbuckling her belt, her eyes fall upon Kodlak's bedroom door, and her heart stop.

Everything drops as her heart triples in speed and a gasp of astonishment escapes her lips.

Hanging on Kodlak's closed door, glittering as if taken from the stars themselves is a pink dress of ethereal proportions.

Not just any dress, but the dress she had been gazing at since their shopping trip started. But now it as a few modifications, or rather improvements that make this dress look like it was crafted by the hands of the Divines.

Covered with sparkling crystals, the pearl white sweetheart bodice features illusion silk thread that trace into the translucent sleeves stopping just at the elbow. The neckline features the start of regal ivory embroidery cascading down the formfitting bodice, and a single, large opal stone is set at the center. The wide, pink, flowing skirt is adorned with coral satin embellishments that could have passed for a work by any master painter. Attached to the waist is a magnificent train that flows over the skirts, encrusted with thousands of minuscule diamonds in a pattern that looks like detailed rose-like designs; crafted by a skilled hand.

Diamond carefully approaches the dress, as if it's merely an illusion. Her fingers grasp the skirt, rubbing it between her fingers. It's so polished and soft, the kind of fabric that you can't get inside of Skyrim. Lifting the skirt, she gasps again as she finds matching heeled shoes set in the same color pearl, another opal gemstone set on the ankle strap of the heel.

"It's a gift." A voice speaks. Diamond leaps back from the dress, squealing as if she had been caught trying to steal a priceless artifact.

Libby is leaning against the doorway, her arms folded and a small smile on her lips. It's laced with sorrow and . . . longing? Diamond doesn't say anything, still focused on the thundering of her heart. Libby pushes off the door, her smile growing more amused.

"It's just, something I wanted to give you – not out for forgiveness, just because. Besides, if I'm not going to the ball, someone has to have all the attention." She gives a nervous laugh.

Diamond would've responded, she wanted to respond, but so many things are running through her head. This dress must've cost a king's fortune if everything sewed into it is real, and while a part of Diamond didn't want to accept it strictly because it was from Libby, another part of her wanted to seize Libby and dance. With the price and the shock running through her, Diamond didn't know how to reply. But she wanted to say something!

This time she didn't want Libby to leave thinking Diamond still hated her. Because perhaps . . . perhaps she doesn't, anymore. Though she's still keeping her own wits about her.

But she would _never_ come across another dress like this. All of Tamriel would never see another dress like this. It's one of a kind.

Libby's bottom lip folds in, and her cheeks become slightly rouge from embarrassment.

_Oh no_ –

Libby sighs and her eyes suddenly gleam. "Well um, I guess I'll just be on my way. There's the accessories in the box." Libby jerks her chin towards a mahogany jewel box. "Have fun tomorrow."

She turns and is walking away when Diamond's feet remember how to move. "Libby!"

She launches a few steps, her hand twitches out as if she has the magical ability to hold the assassin in place. Which surprisingly, it does. Libby turns around, her eyes lighting up, eyebrows high.

"Um, I don't really know how to do all of that stuff," – Diamond stutters, her finger pointing to the jewel box – "Maybe you could . . . maybe you could help me?"

Libby's brilliant eyes twinkle and a small smile upturns the corners of her mouth. "Yes. Yes, I would love to. I'll see you tomorrow."

With that, the assassin turns and continues walking down the hall, her hands tucked into her pockets. Diamond watches the assassin, and then turns her head back towards the dress.

Yes – it's still there. Its crystals and diamonds and pearls glittering even in the limited torchlight. And the more she gazes at it, the more Diamond can't resist smiling like a child.


	27. Chapter 26

Yards of silk, clouds of powder, pearls, and diamonds glisten before Diamond's eyes. She does her best to sit perfectly still as she watches Libby's hands expertly twine and weave and braid her hair into a headband and then sweeping it up into a bun.

Tiny diamond droplets hand from her ears, and within the curls and sweeps of her hair, more pearls have been woven in. Libby doesn't say anything, her face focused with a small comfortable smile as she parts another bobby pin and slides it into Diamond's hair.

With her hair pulled into a wavy ponytail, Libby wears a dark teal cotton gown, with stylish slits along the elbows and small ruffles along the collar and at the end of her long, slim sleeves. She looks almost like a servant compared to Diamond, who feels like a princess as Libby places a small crystal tiara on her head.

"There." She says softly. She moves her hands away ever so softly, like she's trying not to knock over a house of cards.

They had set up in Kodlak's room, placing a mirror on his desk. They had to move aside is amps and trinkets, and books to set up the hair accessories and the cosmetics. Diamond was surprised that Libby had so much, since all her life she knew the assassin only wore makeup for special occasions. Diamond herself actually loving cosmetics and how they enhanced beauty.

"Turn around." Libby says. Diamond does and lifts her chin slightly, parting her lips as Libby takes a small brush and paints a soft pink on her lips. She can't help but admire how Libby's hand worked, much like the hand of an artist: precise, delicate and smooth. When she's done, Libby smiles and motions Diamond to turn back towards the mirror.

She had to admit, she looks the most beautiful she has ever been in her life. The dress's sleeves fit smoothly against her arms, the explosion of the skirt surprisingly condenses well when she sits instead of awkwardly shaping like most gowns do with those confounded cages. Diamond stands up and moves around the seat and watches as her skirt blooms out again and trails behind her with that stunning cape. The accessories Libby had brought were the earrings, a thin necklace and a cuff bracelet strung with more pearls. The opal at the center of her neckline gleams in the light of the sconces.

"You'll steal the attention of any man tonight." Libby smiles a she wipes her hands on a rag.

"Where in Tamriel did you find this dress?" Diamond murmurs.

"Don't ask questions," Libby clucks with a smile.

Diamond smirks. "Fair enough." She fiddles with the skirt of her dress while Libby rounds up the brushes and pins and cosmetics. Her heart suddenly starts to feel too bud for her body, and she feels unstable on her shoes. This would be the first ball where she isn't going to kill anyone. As Libby piles everything into her pouches, Diamond says, "Thanks, Libby." The assassin looks up. "Everything looks great."

"_You_ look great. And you're welcome." Libby only spares another shy smile as she gathers her things into a leather satchel and walks toward the double doors. She opens them and jerks her head. "I think it's time for your unveiling."

Diamond nods, taking a deep breath as she walks in her heels. They are surprisingly comfortable, and while she isn't an expert at walking in these kinds of shoes, through Libby's connections, theses shoes are as comfy as slippers, and perfectly stable. Diamond doesn't say anything as Libby walks ahead and holds the door open for her. Waling up the steps into the main hall was easy, and Diamond's excitement devours her nerves when she beholds her Companion friends.

Eyes widen and breaths escape many lips as Diamond follows behind Libby up to the front steps. While all eyes are on her, hers alone only look to Kodlak, whose expression is the same of a proud father.

"You look nice," says Aela. "You'll steal the heart of a Noble dressed like that." grins Torvar. "Save a dance for me, will you?" Athis adds. Diamond's smile grows as she bashfully lowers her head and giggles. She can see Vilkas out of the corner of her eye, Farkas grinning at him smugly. The rest of the Companions are dressed in their armor, Ria and Torvar looking better than yesterday in their exquisite clothing.

Kodlak approaches her and takes her hand. "You look beautiful, little cub." He smiles. His fingertips gently caress her face and flicks her chin. "Are we all set then?" he says turning towards the group. Everyone nods their heads.

"Well, then this is where I leave you." Libby says with a sigh, disappointment discreetly lacing through it. She slings her satchel over her shoulder and approaches the steps. "Diamond, when you see Princess Nassari, could you give her my regards?"

Diamond simply nods her head, gently folding her lips. Libby returns her gesture. "Thank you." She turns towards the rest of the group. "You all have a lovely night."

She looks to Farkas and smiles, the Companion taking the assassin's hand and kissing its back before briefly rubbing his thumb over her skin. Libby smiles, her cheeks slightly pink and leaves Jorrvaskr, thanking Farkas as he holds the door for her. Once the doors close, Torvar speaks up.

"Nice to see you two getting along well." he grins.

"It is nice." Farkas says, though his tone is stern, his smile gives away his true feelings.

"You know how we all still feel about her, Farkas." Aela gently warns.

"I know, and that is fine. As long as you respect how _I_ feel about her."

Lips are folded in, some even brave enough to shake their heads. Diamond can only stand off to Kodlak, her own emotions still trying to sort themselves out. Kodlak then claps his hands. "Alright everyone, let's go to the ball."

He holds his arm out to Diamond, the blonde Companion smiling brightly as she takes it. The twins hold the doors for the rest of the Companions to file out. Immediately when they leave, Diamond spots the Gildergreen, her flowers still blooming pink despite the baron skeletal trees all around them. The guards are standing off to the side, nodding to the man men, women and couples passing them by and up the steps towards Dragonsreach. Off to the far left, down the stone steps towards the marketplace, Diamond catches a glimpse of Libby heading down.

Her heart thunders with excitement as she beholds the gowns of the many women, none of them looking like hers. In fact, heads turn to her and her smile grows. She lifts the skirt of her gown as they descend the steps of Jorrvaskr, revealing her shoes and the opal gem attached to the ankle strap.

The archways of the front porch come into view, and Diamond can see the wreaths and candles that bedeck the massive front door. Diamond can't help but giggle with hop with slight excitement. But quickly and professionally, she squares her shoulders and steps forward into the castle.

A couple hours later, Farkas scans the crowd of faces, their form, looking for anyone – or anything – suspicious. He is currently just outside the towering balcony doors, leaning against the pillar, arms crossed – not hiding in the shadows as Vilkas had told him to. The tendrils of his breath curls in the night air, and the moonlight glints off the hilt of one of the many daggers he wears at his side. His broadsword seems to glow in the light as well.

The Grand Ballroom of Dragonsreach is white as snow, like the rest of the palace, but decorated in pastels, opened large and wide around the rectangular dance floor filled with revolving dancers. Gilt details chase the curved walls and net the domed ceiling far above. Swaths of silk in hues of white and glacier blue float from the ceiling and ornate glass baubles hang between. The whole room glistens and sparkles like the inside of a Fabergé egg.

Dressed like iridescent dragonflies, the musicians sit huddled in one corner. They play their instruments feverishly, bowstrings fluttering like the wings of the insects they represent. The rhythm they keep is a steady on-two-three, one-two-three. Dancers turn like dervishes, bead-and-gemstone-encrusted skirts flaring out.

Powdered and pale, the women look like stale pastries. Tall and with garish, pointed ears, the men seem like predators. Farkas was surprised at how many different races of men and women, male and female have arrived; looking unified with their enormous yards of fabric they call dresses and jackets that square the shoulders with multiple medals and sashes crossing their chests.

Jarl Balgruuf sits on his throne, looking powerful and regal in his red and gold jacket, a fur-lined cape draping out onto the floor. Proventus is at his side, speaking with Princess Nassari seated next to the Jarl. The princess of Elsweyr looked stunning in a red slim-fitting dress. Crystals and stones in various cuts and sizes are artfully embroidered and draped to resemble chokers and necklaces on the nude neckline of the backless matte gown complete with high slit on the leg and a slight train. Silver cuff bracelets engulf her wrists, multiple rings on her fingers.

Even for a Khajiit, even with Diamond and her ethereal gown, Princess Narrasi could possibly be the most stunning female at the ball.

Once the Companions greeted Balgruuf, Kodlak immediately assigned them to their stations around the room. From his spot, Farkas can see almost every detail, right down to the pearl beading on a woman's gown, and smell everything – from the exquisite banquet that no one is touching and even to the smell of the guests.

Perfume and cologne, as well the stench of their fear whenever the Companion members moved was distracting, and made Farkas dizzy in the head. And his ears picked up each sound of a clicking shoe, to the tickle of silverware, to the blood pulsing in the necks of the guests.

Across the room, he catches Vilkas tucked into an alcove near a servant's entrance. There he can keep an eye on the glittering ball in front of him, as well as the Companion. Which is fine; every so hour the twins would make eye contact, but Vilkas being the one to drop it quickly. Other members of the Companions are scattered about the ballroom, the majority hidden within the limited shadows.

A feeling draws Farkas' attention to look to his right and he finds Athis emerge from his spot, look to him, and nod. Time to rotate.

They've been keeping this pattern going since the party started . . . five hours ago. They would rotate every hour to observe the guests, and each time, Farkas could see some of the guests stiffen and look, as if waiting for something to happen. And when the Companions would resume their new positions, the guest would relax and continue about. Farkas couldn't tell if they were nervous because they were scared something was going to happen, or if because they were nervous of getting caught if they were conspiring.

As they rotate, Farkas turns his head and a tingle of joy spreads up his spine when he sees himself wandering towards the long buffet tables, covered with so much food that edges of some of the plates are hovering over the edge.

He turns his head back towards the crowd, people scattered through the floor dressed like peacocks and jesters, demons and queens. There are feathered dresses and silk suits, glittering gowns with belled sleeves, top hats and long cloaks. Farkas passes a young woman decked in white ostrich feathers and diamonds as she lies sprawled on a divan. Her ivory slipper hanging from one toe, a glass of wine in each hand, she laughs hysterically as a tiny man in a green and yellow jester's costume takes one false fall after another.

As he passes a few young women with dresses donned in ruffles and they flutter themselves with their lace fans, batting their eyelashes and giggling coyly. Farkas merely passes them by giving a terse nod of acknowledgement.

His attention is on the food. The scent of cinnamon, freshly baked bread, and spiced meat seeped through his helmet, causing his stomach to clench. Tureens are overflowing with fruit and are arranged in bouquets, plates of fowl ranging from turkeys, to chickens, to ducks, to larger species Farkas doesn't even know. The smell of their gravy makes his mouth flood with saliva, and they are each sprinkled with spices, lemon juice and finished with little tuffs on the ends of their legs. Trays of ocean creatures sit fried or grilled with little cups of dipping concoctions in front of them; Farkas taking a piece of fried calamari and dunking it into a marinara sauce as red as blood.

His mouth explodes in a flavor that almost makes him groan, and leaves behind a hot aftertaste. The next table is all about salads with fresh greens and vegetables and several dressings lined perfectly.

Of course there are over eight thousand plates, and almost all of them have barely been touched.

And then the table after that is home to the desserts. Gods – cakes and cookies, cupcakes and pies all flavoring from chocolate to fruit, drizzled with sauces of caramel, chocolate, berries and topped with powdered sugar and whipped cream. Silver platters hold piles of candy and pastries stuffed with jam or cream. The frostings range from pink to blue and green and purple, designed in flowers and hearts and elegantly traced. The sweet odor draws Farkas away from the other tables.

There are only a few slices missing from the cakes, only a couple cupcakes were taken, and only small pickings of the candy. And there he finds his favorite: hazelnut truffles. And they look exquisite. Perfectly colored down with their tips dipped in the thick caramel sauce. Popping another in his mouth, Farkas moans as his taste buds are sent to a sugary wonderland.

"You better hope Kodlak doesn't spot you." A voice says behind him. Farkas whirls around to find Diamond out of her post with a smile on his face.

"You had better hope that no one yells at you for abandoning your post." Farkas says as he finishes chewing and swallowing the truffle.

Diamond chuckles. "I don't have a post. I'm one with the crowd, remember, Shield-Brother?"

Farkas rolls his eyes as he sucks the remnants off his thumb and turns to pour himself some of the glittering cider in the large crystal bowl with intricate snowflakes carved in itself. "I did not abandon my post. It just so happens that my post was right next to the banquet tables."

"Of course." Diamond grins as she helps herself to a skewer of fruits. She pulls off a strawberry and tosses it into her mouth. The two of them turn back to the crowd to observe. She then says, "So, how're things going for guard duty?"

"I'm bored to tears and nearly dead with the cold breeze coming in through the doors."

Diamond's shoulders slouch and she shakes her head, still grinning. "You're a great warrior, and yet you can't stand watch for a few hours?"

"What's there to watch?" Farkas hisses. "Couples sneaking out to fondle each other between the hedges? Or every giggling maiden wanting to dance with any of us?"

"Not like you don't adore the attention."

Farkas barks a laugh. "No! Gods, no. I'm spoken for and you know it."

"I know, I know." Diamond says almost sadly. "I'm just ruffling your feathers."

They stand in silence, Farkas about to tell Diamond she should get back to the crowd, when notices something and clears his throat. Diamond turns her head, her hand drifting to her small dagger about her waist.

But when she follows the angle of Farkas' head, Diamond's food nearly lodges in her throat when he sees Princess Nassari approaching them, her smile bright and welcoming. She really is easily the most stunning female in the ballroom, and Diamond didn't fail to notice how many women – and men – had been watching him all night.

Farkas and Diamond bow, speaking in unison, "You Majesty."

Nassari nods to Farkas, but barely stops until she reaches Diamond. When she does, Diamond is surprised when the princess opens her arms and embraces Diamond. Several men and women of the ball gasp, but the princess simply laughs more as she holds Diamond's hands and says in the common tongue, "It is so good to see you, Diamond."

"As to you, Your Majesty." Diamond instantly replies. It might be that she's barely spoken with the princes, but her accent seems less thick than it was before.

She is even more surprised at how the princess knows her name. Farkas had told Diamond how Libby had managed to see the princess a fair amount over the past two weeks since she had walked into Jorrvaskr – mostly just for brief walks and dinners, where they discussed many a things. A part of Diamond was nervous – for the princess to know her name and her face, it could mean Libby had spoken to her about a lot of things from their past. But obviously – not _all_ of the details.

"You look beautiful, Diamond," Princess Nassari says softly. "I must say that dress makes you look so much more intimidating than your usual layers of armor."

Diamond swallows nervously. She tries to think of ways to word her sentences to sound more . . . refined. Oh, Gods help her.

"They weigh less as well. It's nice to be able to walk without feeling like I'm going to keel over." The princess laughs, and Farkas clears his throat.

"Where is Lilian? I would imagine she wouldn't want to miss such a grand gathering."

Diamond and Farkas look to one another for a heartbeat before Farkas replies. "She couldn't make it I'm afraid, Your Majesty."

The princess's shoulders slouch, her ears drooping. "Oh, such a shame. I would've loved to see how she would look in gowns such as this." Nassari gestures to her and Diamond's gowns, of which are still gaining the attention of both men and women at the ball.

"You do look incredible, Your Highness. I never would've thought a gown such as yours existed." Diamond says with a courteous smile. The princess gives an appreciative nod.

"How goes your studies, Your Highness?" Farkas asks.

Narrasi bites on the words for a moment, blinking a couple times before answering. "They are . . . tolerable." She retorts. She then turns to Diamond to say, "My slobbery-nosed tutor could not teach a dog how to bark." Diamond snorts, faint amusement flickering in Farkas' eyes. "I swear it! Diamond, he is teaching me the basics when I learned them in my toddler years! And no matter how much I insist, he merely shakes his head, claiming my accent is too thick to understand."

"Maybe because you keep switching back to Elsweyr." Diamond chuckles through her grin. "Why would they give you a tutor who can't understand you?"

Nassari replies quietly, leaning in, "Because this continent is hopeless when it comes to matters of common sense. That and it would take weeks for a translator of Elsweyr to come here; at least, one who was brave enough to come."

While Diamond could listen to the princess rant about the people of Skyrim for hours, they are in a ballroom – other people are listening to their lengthy conversation, even if they can't hear most of it.

"Why would your people be afraid of Skyrim?" Diamond asks, her voice more quiet.

"It's not the continent they fear, merely its inhabitants." Nassari says. She then turns to the table of desserts and extends out a graceful hand to take a yellow-cream custard toppled with seasonal berries; an Elsweyr delicacy.

Diamond turns her feet, following the princess and folding her arms. Her back now to Farkas, the Companion thankfully stays quiet, but Diamond can sense the piercing gazes of onlookers. "You mean, the Nords?"

Nassari looks to him and a smirk. "No, the gnomes and trolls." Diamond would've smacked the princess's arm, but she doesn't need the guests panicking and having members of The Companions tackle her to the ground. Or even just pierce an arrow in her throat. "Have you not seen the sentries? They are rather impressive."

"You said they had feared them, yet you express admiration." Diamond reiterates, keeping their conversation quiet. She plucks a chocolate frosting flower and gulps the entire in one inhale. Although now she wants some more cider.

"Not like the 'normal' kind of fear." Nassari rephrases. "Merely, intimidation."

"That shouldn't be enough to stop them."

"Oh please. Even you know for a fact that these, Nords are impressive I will give them that credit. Which is why I am surprised to see you as a part of the one of the feared organizations of the entire Whiterun continent."

Diamond blinks for a moment, surprised at how fluent and smooth the princess's pronunciation is in the common tongue. "I wouldn't say we're feared, we're just doing what we can to keep our Hold safe."

Nassari chuckles, causing Diamond's cheeks to warm. "I suppose to each their own opinion. Believe me, I mean no disrespect, it's just that while the Companions hold honor and I more than adore Kodlak, I just still see some parallels that make them not that different from those of other guilds." She pats Diamond's shoulder.

"I consider it being humble."

Nassari chuckles some more. "But apart from that, Skyrim is the birthplace and homeland of the Nords. Of which they claim is 'their land'." she shrugs. "I presume they fear coming here should Ulfric advance his army into the territory."

"When you speak of the land, you act as if it is merely their own belief." Diamond says, her voice laced with caution.

Nassari give a wave of her ringed hand. "Merely what I have been told through rumors and such by my predecessors. Even so, it keeps tutors from coming out."

Diamond is about to retort when Farkas steps in and says, "Time to rotate."

Has it been an hour already? Diamond rolls her eyes and sighs as in an attempt to look bored. Princess Nassari finishes another pastry before quickening her steps to follow Diamond. Farkas follows them as well, leaning to Diamond. "You two seem to be getting along well."

The Companion can't help but smile at the jealousy and slight admiration in Farkas' tone. "Makes me wish I had spoken to her sooner before _Lilian_."

Once she reaches the outskirts of the dance floor – this time under the alcove cast in shadows – she turns and leans against the marble pillar, folds her arms and sighs. Thankfully Farkas takes a few steps away as a respectable distance, but still within vague earshot.

"How is Lilian? Might I ask what other plans she had tonight?"

"Oh, er – she was assigned by Kodlak to go and scout out a bandit camp near Gallows Rock." Diamond lies.

"Oh I see, poor thing. I hope she'll still be able to make it tonight." The Princess says.

"Maybe."

As a councilman approaches them, speaking with Princess Nassari, her bodyguard not too far behind her, Diamond can't help but look out the wall of windows and see the night sky over Whiterun. What could Libby be doing? A part of her was nervous that the Companions had left her to basically do whatever she pleases.

But then she remembers, and a small bubble of excitement grows in her chest. The Warrior's Festival was Libby's chance to have fun and be free . . .

And now here Diamond is, dressed like she's her own dignitary, surrounded by music, and food and royalty and nobles.

Vilkas had told her she should live her life, and for once Diamond is going to listen to him.

She spots Torvar across the ballroom, already standing next to a serving girl holding a tray of expensive wine. Smiling deviously, she walks over to one join him and takes a long glass of wine. Torvar looks to her with wide eyes, but it quickly turns devious and the two of them clink their glasses together.

"To us." He says.

"To freedom." Diamond grins, and gulps the whole down in one swig.

* * *

Bawdy singing accompanies the music coming from the quintet by the roaring fire. Tonight, because it was just a day before the weekend, the tavern is packed with various nobles, women who are no doubt courtiers and courtesans sitting in their laps, and men – lots and lots of drunk, boisterous men. Card games, dice, barrels of ale free-flowing, the counter smeared with condensation, and bottles of rare wine. Even if these people can't get into Dragonsreach, it certainly isn't going to stop them from celebrating their own way.

Libby didn't know who was paying for it, but doesn't care. She doesn't even hear the music or the chattering people and their clinking glasses. She merely stares blankly at her mug of half-finished ale.

Like she has for the past hour now, she's been sitting in the tavern taking down notes in her journal to help organize her thoughts on the rumors surrounding the lost heir of the Snow Elves.

The counter rattles slightly and off to her left, she hears the roaring cheers of a group of men in a drinking contest, one wiping his mouth sloppily with the back of his wrist. Several of the courtesans giggle and clap merrily, a few breaking away from the pack to prowl around tables. One even approaches Libby, ready to sell her wares as she sets her hand on her shoulder. But the courtesan easily steps away when Libby turns to her, glaring.

Libby takes another sip of her still first mug of the night, probably the least amount she has taken. She had gone back home to dress in clothing that wouldn't make her look like an easy target tonight for anyone willing to start a fight. When she sat down in the Bannered Mare, Saadia immediately came to her and asked what she wanted. Libby only asked for basics and was left alone. With her hood down, she had caught some eyes, but no one else approached her safe for the servant girl to refill her mug.

So far, she hasn't heard word at all about Erelia Glendeylin or her connections to the rebels supposedly hiding in Whiterun Hold. She had managed to swipe a couple of papers and documents from the local library relating to the subject, and they have ranged widely from helped, to pointless shit that she just wants to burn. Not like the librarian is going to miss these documents anyway, there's plenty of paper in the library.

One of the papers had mentioned that Princess Nassari is visiting Skyrim because she wants to further her advances in freeing her people of Elsweyr from the Aldermi Dominion. Libby had already known that, and other documents offered nothing more than to explain who had sent her and a couple of brief background stories. However, another – recent – document had stated that Princess Nassari is already confederated to Erelia Glendeylin, and the two of them are going to accomplish freeing not only Elsweyr, but also all of Skyrim.

Gods, the two of them together . . . they would equal a force that would shatter the Stormcloak rebellion. And possibly break the Empire's ties to the Dominion. Because would be more than happy to watch to egotistical elves be sent back to the Summerset Isles.

What had infuriated her the most is that it mentions Erelia already assembling an army that will crush the Stormcloaks _when_ she decides to emerge. What army? They can't possibly think it must be consisted of Snow Elves. The Nords made sure to slaughter all of them so that they didn't have the chance to rise again. Unless the numbers in rebels has increased since the rumors first started.

While information on Erelia is decent, there's still nothing about the rebel groups and where they can be found. Libby expected this, but she also expected _something_ about their whereabouts and how one can meet up to join. These guys could teach assassins about keeping secrets.

The hardest part is trying to keep her work concealed. She and idled for a seat in the back of the tavern, buy favored for a seat at the bar near the firepit in case someone dared to speak up about the rebels. Hopefully an Imperial province is more open to hearing about rebels than a Stormcloak territory. She had to keep placing her hand over her documents when anyone walked by, while still hoping to keep their attention.

As she scribbles in her journal, she senses the being approaching her before the shadow even obscures her notes. She looks up and smiles friendlily as the owner Hulda stands with a rag, wiping the counter. "Did you want another plate of food or anything?" she asks.

"Oh, no, thank you." Libby denies, but carefully fiddles with the corner of her journal. "But, if I can ask: what's the word around town?"

Hulda smiles and leans forward on the counter. "Depends on what you want to know."

"Well, it's complicated, and I don't want you getting any ideas, but, I was wondering if there's been any whispers about these rebel groups supporting Erelia."

Hulda's face immediately contorts and Libby can feel her face heat as she inn owner leans back, her skin growing rather pale. "I don't know if it's safe."

"I understand it's all rather, dangerous," Libby says keeping her voice quiet. "But at the same time, you would only be afraid if you knew them to be true."

"I suppose. It's just, I don't know – I try not to think about it." Hulda admits, her voice reaching normal level. It only informs Libby that at least here in the Bannered Mare it's safe enough to talk of such things. If a Nord were here, he could easily pin this whole thing on Jarl Balgruuf.

"I'm good at keeping secrets." Libby smiles, trying her best to look like an innocent adolescent.

"Well, all I can recall is that there are some rebel groups hiding out in Whiterun Hold, not only that, but they're spreading fast, even into the areas of Winterhold."

Libby raises her eyebrows. "That's rather impressive, but also incredibly stupid. They'd be butchered on the spot." Discreetly, Libby jots down the notes in her notebook while she has Hulda's eyes. "I'm assuming that one hasn't bothered coming into town, parading all about his or her movement."

"Well, we did have some mysterious figures coming in, but I'm afraid I didn't ask too many questions."

"Smart woman." Libby credits. "But while they might want to keep things quiet, or rather not – given the rumors, how are they even recruiting anyone if this is all just folly?"

Hulda shrugs. "I don't know. I suppose some people have very high hopes, or that they're just so fed up with Skyrim being torn apart that they're willing to settle on a new race ruling over her land. I like to believe that that's the reason that drives most people."

Someone sits down next to her, and Libby does a quick mental assessment and decides the person is not a threat.

"The Snow Elves were a wondrous race. It's strange to think that the Falmer are all that's left of what they were. But with Erelia back on Skyrim's throne, I do believe that she could lead this land to better places."

"That's rather risky putting so much faith into someone who might actually be dead." Libby says rather bitterly.

Hulda shrugs her shoulder again, wiping down the counter. "I can only hope. Until then, I have a job, coin, and a roof over my head."

"I'd like to see Skyrim set with a new ruler, or High Queen, I suppose." A feminine voice chirps.

Turning her full attention to her right, Libby realizes her seat partner is Carlotta, a lovely woman who runs a food stand in the market. Libby remembers playing with her daughter a couple times when she visited Whiterun. A sweetheart.

"You'd like Erelia to be High Queen? Isn't that against the rules?"

"When Erelia takes back Skyrim, she'll be making up new rules." Mikael chimes. Libby and Carlotta turn in their seats to face the firepit. Libby's heart sinks when she realizes their conversation has gained the attention of much of the inn. "Besides the fact that she would be better than all of the Jarls combined, she would've bene the finest looking ruler to boot." He grins with a wink.

"I bet that Erelia would be the greatest ruler of all our time." Olfina Grey-Mane speaks. Her silver hair gleams in the firelight. Her eyes wide with excitement. "She comes from a race that is powerful in all ways: magic, combat, intelligence –"

"Yeah well that intelligence didn't do them much in the war against the Nords." Uthgerd the Unbroken. Libby remembers her; she had gotten kicked from the Companions after accidentally killing an initiate.

"Well no one asked your opinion." Olfina sparks, setting her hands on her hips.

Uthgerd snarls and Hulda speaks up. "Now, now, everyone. I don't want a repeat of what happened last time. We are all entitled to opinions, but any roughhousing, take it outside." Both women immediately retract and settle. Libby raises her eyebrows, impressed.

"Telling a story like this now, it's pivotal and important." Mikael continues. "The story of a very powerful woman. She's the best fighter of all the races of Tamriel. She has strength and speed, and she's no doubt been training her whole life for war."

"How can you be so sure she's even a fighter?" Libby asks.

"Well you have to be if you're leading a rebellion against both Nords and Imperials." He answers.

"She also stands for equality, and that's very important." Sinmir speaks up. Libby remembers him too, he openly talks about how awful the city guard is and openly degrades the commander. "And I think that's why people love her character."

"Even you?"

Sinmir nods his head. "The greatest thing about Erelia is how good and kind and loving she is, yet none of that negates any of her power. She is the embodiment of hope."

Libby's hand hurts from scribbling down the notes in her journal. Hopefully it won't look like a scrambled mess.

"Not to be disrespectful, but I want to ask: why is it you all have such faith in someone that probably doesn't even exist. This whole thing could be a ploy of some kind. And allegedly she was slaughtered with the rest of the Snow Elven kind during the Nords genocidal campaign."

"You know your history." Hulda comments from behind.

"It may seem farfetched, and I think speak for everyone when I say," Sinmir gestures to the whole room. "the thought does occur to us, but at the same time, to think that a third party outside this putrid war can actually seize both sides to come to an agreement, it's shows that Skyrim might actually have a brighter future."

"Not to mention that she can drive those vile Thalmor out of Skyrim." Uthgerd says. "Imperial or Nord, no one loves those damn elves."

Cheers erupt from around the inn with laughter and clinking of tankards.

"I just feel bad for the Princess of Elsweyr." Hulda says and Libby turns halfway in her seat to look at her. "Rumors have also been spreading on how she's allied with Erelia in an attempt to free her people. She and Erelia have been working with the rebels for months now, even before the princess came to Skyrim. They plan on assembling a group that could go into the northern reaches of Skyrim and start gathering more forces against Ulfric."

"I think at this point, everyone wishes to help her." Mikael says, his face suddenly serious, and the air thickens with a palpable grief. "After hearing what Ulfric and his men did to her people, it's such a shame." He shakes his head, and all heads turn low as the grief travels on.

"It disgusts even the most loyal of Nords. That man can't call himself one of us if he can't distinguish power from savagery." Sinmir growls. "Even now, I want to hand his head on a pike."

"The poor thing." Olfina says softly. "It worries me to think that that man could be our new ruler should he succeed in the war."

"He sure won't now. I'm willing to bet he's lost half of his followers from that tragedy." Carlotta says as she takes a sip from her tankard.

"Well, whether it's true of false, it is almost encouraging to see everyone coming together in support of her." Libby says with a sad smile.

"I only hope that the Princess of Elsweyr is being kept under high security." Sinmir says, Libby turns to him as he spits into the fire. "I had heard about Jarl Balgruuf's ball tonight, and there's supposed to be an assassination on her tonight."

Libby's heart sinks and she can feel her skin grow numb. Everything seems to freeze.

"What?" she asks softly. So quietly she couldn't hear it over her already pounding blood.

"Because she's rumored to be in cahoots with the Imperials, I had heard some Stormcloaks hired a Faceless assassin to try and end her tonight."

Everything is slipping away, and suddenly Dragonsreach feels so far away. Her hands feel far away, her mind, her control . . .

"Those _bastards_." Olfina spits. "They'll do anything to keep themselves ahead."

"I'm sure she'll be fine. Did you get a look at her guards? Hulking males, even for Khajiits." Uthgerd waves off.

"I don't know. Nords aren't afraid to get down and dirt if it means they're ahead of the game and the Faceless certainly don't leave a job unfinished –"

Every one of the restraints she'd locked in place after she'd rampaged through Cidhna Mines snaps free.

A clatter of platters and tankards echoes through the inn. Heads turn to find the bar seat vacant.

The doors are open, letting in the cold breeze of the outside.

* * *

Diamond is a giggling, warm mess as she clinks her third glass of wine with Torvar. She's lost track of how many hours she's been dancing and devouring the tremendous food lining the tables. But all she does know is that she's had the most fun tonight than she's had her whole life.

She finds the rest of the Companions still about the room, watching the crowd, others happily dancing with the crowd, not a care in the world. Diamond wants to join them, but suddenly her head is thumping, and the smell of mingling perfume is making her lightheaded.

So she decides to head out to the Great Porch where it is relatively abandoned, safe for a few couples atop the rafters, hands fondling each other and lips touching areas of skin. But she's too tipsy to care. Her hair is becoming undone – already losing some of the bobby pins Libby had given her. She might've smeared small bits of her makeup from the sweat, but she didn't bring any with to touch herself up.

Diamond walks all the way towards the stone railing, sighing as the cold breeze sweeps onto her heated cheeks. There are sweat pockets located all around her body: on her lower back, under her breasts and on the back of her neck. She was proud of herself for taking a couple of dances, mostly because she knew them enough. The music was joyous, the food outstanding.

This is what life is like. Or well, perhaps a small part of it. And with the Companions, she can have the best of both.

"I thought I would find you here." A voice chimes. Diamond turns around and finds Princess Nassari approaching. "I couldn't stand the heat of the room either; it's enough to make my whiskers curl."

Diamond drunkenly giggles. The princess leans forward on the balcony, inhaling deeply as her whiskers ripple in the wind. Down below, the snow tipped mountains guard the borderline while the patches of snow continue on into the city, covering the roofs and balconies and chimneys of Whiterun.

"It is a strange sight, the white flakes that fall from the sky." The princess says.

"You get used to it." Diamond nonchalantly shrugs. Thank the divines her words aren't slurring.

"Sometimes I forget that Skyrim can hold such beauty. With such dark times, it is good to see beauty still thrives."

Diamond bites her lower lip, her head slightly wavering. She blinks and tries to keep herself focused. "So, if I may ask, when you mentioned the rumors before, what do you mean?" she asks the princess.

The princess sighs. "There are rumors spreading around, speculating that I am in allegiance with the lost heir of the Snow Elves, Erelia Glendeylin and her rebel groups hiding here in Skyrim – or rather, in Whiterun. I'm afraid the rumors have already reached Dragonsreach and now it would seem I am being watched more closely than I was before. Jarl Balgruuf is a kind man and he understands why others would think I am part of such a cause. But I feel it is straining on the reputation I am trying to build."

"And what reputation would that be?"

"Just to show the inhabitants of Skyrim that my people are not all that they presume us to be. Even Imperials don't trust our kind, and it saddens me to see their skulls are so dense."

Diamond is silent for a moment, watching how to word her next sentence properly. This is dangerous talk, and even if Ulfric is not present at the party, if anyone catches wind, it could put Princess Nassari in further danger. No doubt she's already having arrows pointed at her as it is. But why is she even having this conversation with the princess anyway? She assumed Nassari would save this kind of talk with Libby, that way they can both speak in Elsweyr without much attention.

"They say you are trying to help free your people from the Dominion. They most likely associated the rumors with that."

"I figured as much." The princess replies without hesitation, but her voice is much quieter. Close to the point Diamond can barely hear it over the sound of the floating music. "It is now getting to the point that I wish I _was_ allied with Erelia. The Snow Elves were a prosperous society and it was said they were here before the first Nord, or the first man."

"Which I'm assuming falls into the line of Skyrim not being their true home, as you said?"

The princess gives a stiff nod. "With the army that Erelia might've had, or could still have, we could easily free not only my people, but the people of Skyrim as well."

"So you've taken a side in the war?"

"No I have not, and I don't believe Erelia has either. The Imperials could be using it as a way to make the Nords tremble. Or perhaps these rebels aren't even in allegiance to the Stormcloaks or the Imperials at all. Perhaps they are rebels of their own kind, wanting to help Skyrim become anew." The princess begins to fiddle with her long silver cuff bracelet. "With Erelia, Skyrim would not be Nord territory, or Imperial territory – it would be a haven for all of Tamriel. Each race has their own home across this continent and Skyrim is at its center. It ought to serve as the pinnacle of all the races, coming to live together in one area in perfect harmony, not racist against others who don't bare the blood of ancestors."

Diamond's heart thunders in her chest and she swallows, carefully glancing around them.

"I would love to have met her," Princess Nassari says. Diamond turns to her to find the princess looking down at her bracelet. "I would hope that she would understand. She and I . . . We will always stand apart. We will always have . . ." she searches for the word. "Responsibilities. We will always have burdens that no one else can ever understand. That they" – she inclines her head towards the entirety of the ballroom – "will never understand. And if they did, they would not want them."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Diamond says, a pang of guilt aching in her chest.

The princess touches Diamond's hand. "Do you think Lilian could teach me?" she says. "Teach me how to better speak your language – and teach me how to write and read it better than I do now. So I don't have to suffer through those horribly boring old men they call tutors."

"I –" Diamond stutters, taken aback by the princess' request. Having the prince be fluent in both languages would be great fun. But convincing anyone to let Libby see Nassari is always a hassle – because they would have to count on guards being there to keep watch. No one would never agree to sitting through lessons. "I don't know, I'm afraid I can't speak for her."

"Then I will discuss it with her when I see her." Nassari says, already brainstorming. "She'll be able to teach me. After . . . whatever it is she does with you. For an hour every day before supper."

Well, it doesn't look like saying no is an option. Not that Libby would mind spending more time with the princess. "I promise I will pass the news onto her as soon as I see her." Diamond says.

"I thank you for that." The princess says with a genuine smile. For some reason, seeing the princess so true makes her heart warm. The princess sighs and says brightly. "Well, I think I'll be heading off. I'm afraid I don't feel well."

"Oh, well alright. Did you need anyone to escort you?" As Diamond finishes the sentence, her eyes look towards the doors leading back to the ballroom.

She hears the princess giggle, Diamond's cheeks once more feeling warm. "I think I will be fine. But thank you. Have a pleasant night, Diamond."

"You too, Your Majesty." Diamond says with a curtsey.

With that, the princess leaves, the doors closing softly behind her.

The stars seem extra bright tonight. Diamond doesn't know how long she's been standing outside, staring at the stars – but it only feels like seconds when she hears a bloodcurdling scream from inside.


	28. Chapter 27

The assassin sprints through the streets, her boots pounding against the cobblestone.

Her feet are bounding across like a stallion. Her hood is over her head, her cowl covering her face. The chill of the winter night doesn't even phase her as she keeps her eyes on the castle. Her heart thunders as she hurtles across the streets.

Her cloak trailing behind her, she's a phantom of the night. Pumping her arms at her sides she wills herself to be faster.

Dragonsreach comes into view. Guards are all along the outside. She draws her swords without even caring about them seeing her.

One of them tries to stop her, but his leg is already slashed open, leaking blood before he even tells her to halt. The others are dismembered and lying in puddles of blood in _seconds_.

She's inside, and her she slips into the shadows, scanning her perimeter. While keeping to the shadows, her feet keep their speed, barely making a sound as her cloak shrouds her in darkness. She sheathes her swords to keep them from leaving a trail behind her.

She make her way up the stairs, quickly finding a set of doors leading to an outside balcony. Like a snake in the grass she's back outside in the cold, crawling across the bricks like a spider.

Because of her expulsion with the guards, she's on a time crunch. The giant windows of the ballroom come into view and her eyes quickly scan the crowd. There's no sign of the princess.

The assassin's heart jumps, her mind doing a quick scan of all other places she would go tonight. Nothing outside.

There's only one other place she can be.

The assassin looks up and finds the balcony to the princess' chambers. Quickly she climbs to the closest balcony and slips inside the doors, the warmth enough to make her skin sweat. She's in the hallway of the princess's chambers, just a left and a right and she'll be at the door.

With everyone gathered in the ballroom, silence is unneeded. The assassin sprints down the hallway, weaving her way towards the princess's chambers.

Two more guards are present at the doors, and just as they lay eyes on her, she disables them and renders them helpless in seconds. Blood drips from her swords.

Their howls of pain don't reach her. She can't hear anything over her pounding heart, like the beat of a heavy drum. Her swords are stained with blood, splattered on her clothes.

She rams her foot into the door, shattering the locks into pieces.

The assassin beholds the room.

The door to the balcony of the chamber is open. Its lace curtains billowing in the chilling breeze. Nothing is shattered, in fact it looks as if they were delicately opened.

And sitting in the chair . . .

Sitting there . . . there she was.

The assassin pulls her hood down.

"Why hello lovely." The assassin smiles crazily, her voice laced with deadly calm.

The world slows to the beat of an ancient, ageless drum.

"No! No –!"

Deathly screams, splashing of blood and ripping flesh erupt from the chamber.


	29. Chapter 28

Diamond rushes up the steps with the rest of the Companions, hiking up her skirt to avoid tripping. What started out as a fun night is going to end in bloodshed. All of the members of the Companions are sprinting as if the winds of time are pushing them forward towards Princess Nassari's Chambers.

After she had left Diamond it was forty minutes later that she heard a bloodcurdling scream. And it came from upstairs. Ria had come to get Diamond, and the Companion was already sprinting her way through the caste, the daggers she kept hidden on her calves already in her hands.

She had managed to catch a few words of the guards as she whipped by: apparently some Stormcloaks hired a Faceless Assassin to end Princess Nassari in account to rumors of her working with the Imperials. Diamond's heart stopped when she heard it was a Faceless. Her whole body practically stopped. If it weren't for Ria bumping into her, Diamond would've just stayed frozen.

This is bad. They can't end Princess Nassari. They _can't_!

Farkas and Kodlak are ahead of her, Vilkas and Aela at her side. Her pack.

They hit the stop of the stairs. The shouts behind them grow; the commander of the guards ordering his men to keep the Jarl and his guests safe.

They turn down the familiar hallway, gasps and curses erupting from the group when they behold the wooden doors. The Jarl's guards that were assigned to watch the princess lay on the floor with their throats cut from ear to ear, their internal organs spilling out onto the stone.

The door to the princess's chambers . . . it's been forced open.

Diamond prays for speed in her step as she crosses the threshold and –

Diamond beholds the room.

There is blood everywhere.

It's splattered across the walls, like someone had exploded and it's smeared along the floor like the body was dragged to and fro.

And at the center of the room . . .

At the center of the room . . .

Libby.

Gods – it's Libby. But at the same time, it isn't. She is entirely covered in blood. It covers her mask, her arms, her legs. The blades of her weapons have lost their shine in turn for the rustic coating. There is nothing beneath her cowl – nothing of this world. That black fire burns through all thought and feeling until all remains is her rage and her prey.

Diamond stands at the center of the doorway, gazing at Libby, and the Faceless Assassin's broken body before her. It's empty, artfully mutilated, so cut up that a thick puddle of blood turns the floor back and tainting the tips of her white hair. Daggers were driven through her wrists and ankles, deep cuts along her legs, one eyes gouged out and her chest cavity open to see the side of her heart.

Gods above . . .

Princess Nassari's guards are also dead, their bodies chopped up into bits. People file in behind her, and they fan out around Diamond.

No one approaches Libby, and Diamond can feel her knees quaking – in fear. She just, stares at the Faceless Assassin, her shoulders haunched forward, her arms limp at her side, holding bloodied blades, her nostrils flaring and heaving through her teeth.

Diamond's eyes flick to the assassin, looking past the shredded skin, white bones protruding from places. She . . . she recognizes this assassin. Her alabaster skin, burnt-gold eyes and moon-white hair was just hints, but it wasn't until Diamond beheld her hand, and the protruding iron claws that arc out. Their tips have bits of blood on them, and Diamond can match it with the rips in Libby's cloak. A stream of blood bubbles from her mouth.

Marionette.

She was the one who was sent to eliminate Princess Nassari. Diamond still remembers their first encounter. Her face is contorted to looking like she's in the middle of a death scream, her iron teeth out with its tips dipped in blood as well.

That scream, that horrible scream that iced her blood – that was Marionette.

But where is the princess . . . ?

Libby doesn't even look at them, her hair covers whatever exposure of her face, her breathing still loud. Strands of her hair waft ad flick at her breath.

Diamond takes a step closer to Libby, murmuring her name, "Libby . . .?"

Farkas is at Diamond's side, carefully approaching the assassin. Diamond almost wants to run out of the room as Libby slowly turns her head to face her. _By the Divines_ . . .

Her eyes – by the gods her _eyes_! The ring of gold is a living flame inside the green. And her pupils have shrunk to the size of pinpricks of blackness. Blood drips down the side of her face, gathering at her chin. She's still breathing heavy. Her eyes are just . . . wild; as wild as the fire in her eyes.

"Libby," Farkas says carefully. Her eyes flick to him quickly, and Diamond carefully sets a hand on her throat. They're treating her like a predator, and Diamond worries she's about to launch.

Diamond knew wheat – where – Libby is. She's in that dark place where nothing exists but an icy, endless rage that wipes away everything. Farkas gets dangerously close and extends out a hand. Libby jerks her head towards him, causing everyone to flinch.

"Where is the princess?" Farkas asks softly. As if his voice has broken the chain that was binding her the darkness, Libby's eyes blink, and they blink again.

A loud bang comes from the back of the room. Heads turn and Libby turns towards it, her blades still clutched in her hands as if she expects them to dissipate into dust if she lets go.

A large armoire is set along one wall and there's another bang that echoes from. Diamond's throat constricts. Vilkas attempt to step over to it, but Kodlak stops him, his eyes attentively on Libby.

The door bursts open and the princess stumbles out of it, gripping the door to steady herself. She's still dressed in the dress she wore at the ball, but she holds her head as she regains balance. She groans and shakes her head, and when she turns toward the crowd, she gasps and screams, covering her mouth with her hands in shock and horror.

"Wha – by the gods –!" Even with her grey –stripped fur, Diamond can tell she grows pale. She almost looks as if she's going to vomit. Her eyes gleam as she beholds her guards.

Libby shifts on her feet, and suddenly her eyes are wide, her eyebrows furrowed, and she removes her hood. Princess Nassari's eyes go to Libby, and her fear only grows.

There's a loud clang as Libby drops her swords. She takes a step towards the princess, her feet sloshing in the puddle of blood. But the princess takes a step away from Libby. She's afraid . . .

Libby begins to tremble. Her hands start shaking as she takes another step towards the princess.

"Lilian . . ." the princess breathes.

At the sound of the princess's voice, Libby drops to her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks. She slowly shakes her head, but her wildness is still in her eyes. "I'm sorry." is all she can say. "I'm so sorry."

The princess's eyes flick from Libby to Marionette's deformed body. Then a flicker of understanding swims into her eyes and she kneels before the assassin. Her hands take Libby's face and the princess merely stares at her.

"I never wanted you to see –" Libby whimpers. She would've finished but her voice gives out, and she only shakes her head. She's acting like she wasn't herself – which, possibly she wasn't.

The princess only pets the assassin's head. And then all together, Libby collapses into the princess's arms, sobs wrecking her body. Tears of relief and joy that the princess is alive.

As Kodlak and the guards file in and escort Libby and the princess out of the room, Diamond's stomach twists as she takes one last look at Marionette's broken body along the floor.

* * *

Libby is still shaking even as she curls up next to the fire to the music room of Dragonsreach. After she had seen Farkas' expression of sheer horror, after hearing Nassari's voice and seeing she was alive, Libby just – shattered. The adrenaline that fueled her epic sprint for the castle just dropped and suddenly Libby could feel _everything_.

She could feel the ache in her arms from the fighting; she could feel the blood that had covered her completely; she could feel the scratches and cuts and bruises inflicted upon her by Marionette, and she feel her heart racing as if it was about to jump out of her chest. And when she saw Nassari, and the fear in her eyes, Libby almost shattered thinking she had lost another friend, but the princess merely held her while Libby cried pathetically. Her tears were just relief that had overwhelmed her since the beginning.

It's a miracle that Nassari is still bothering to speak with her. Apart from seeing the carnage that Libby had left in her room, when Libby had arrived, she practically scared the fur off of Nassari only seconds before she grabbed the princess and forcibly shoved her into the armoire without much explanation. And that was just a minute before Marionette burst through Nassari's chamber doors.

After she had heard of the assassination attempt on Nassari's life, the world just slowed and blurred, and the next thing Libby knew, she was sprinting through the streets and up to Dragonsreach. Thankfully she still had the sense to sneak around the side to avoid the guards, and climbed up the freezing, slippery stones up to Nassari's balcony. Then she surprisingly ever so gently opened the princess's balcony doors and sipped inside.

She had scared Nassari as she was in the midst of removing her jewelry, and when she was about to ask what Libby was doing there, one look of Libby's cold, dead eyes had rendered her frozen by fear. Libby simply grabbed Nassari and ordered her to stay hidden and not make a sound. Her voice was calm and sounded like gravel. Libby then simply sat in one of the chairs by the fire and waited.

And when Marionette showed up . . .

Libby only greeted her with calm words, and a wicked smile. Marionette didn't expect to see her, and Libby took full advantage of her surprise. She first flicked her wrist and a dagger immediately found its home in Marionette's eye, erupting a scream from the Faceless assassin. She had barely finished when Libby launched herself. She pulled her dagger free from Marionette's eye, not even caring at the eyeball lodged hallway up the blade.

Libby only had a few blades on her belt, but it was all she needed. After thoroughly hacking and slashing at Marionette, accompanied by blows of her fist and knees, when she got the Faceless assassin on the floor, she pinned her there with her daggers.

She practically dissected the Faceless Assassin, cracking open her chest cavity like a nutshell, plucking her nails off like petals to a flower and stabbing daggers into her limbs like she was a living pincushion.

Libby then proceeded to pry Marionette for answers, and every time she refused or cursed at Libby, (which was a lot) Libby then ripped off each and every one of her iron claws. She only got one hand done before the Faceless assassin confessed.

Now Libby has a name and a location. And when she finds the soldier responsible for the attempt on Nassari's life, that person will be hers to take apart. Slowly. She had barely begun the fun when she was doing away with the Faceless Assassin.

But it wasn't enough. Libby wasn't ready to let the bloodshed end. She wanted to rip out Marionette's throat with her teeth. And she would've had the Faceless assassin not die so quickly.

Marionette was good, those god-damned iron claws sure have a reach. Libby looks to her now bandaged side, the area where Marionette swiped her. Even she didn't know the full extent of her injuries until the healers removed her clothes. Thankfully, that was only nick that Marionette had managed to inflict. Every other part of Libby was untouched.

Only now does Libby realize the torture that she had probably put Nassari through as well. The armoire she had stuffed the princess in was right there while Libby performed her own execution. She had heard every scream, every curse and every begging word that Marionette unleashed to Libby; only to have splashing blood, ripping flesh and gurgled screams in return.

What had terrified Libby the most was that familiar feeling of when she had rampaged through the Cidhna Mines. It was the _exact same feeling_. She could only see the assassin and the princess, she could only hear her pounding heart. Everything else was blurred and meshed together in smears of color. And when Farkas and the princess spoke to her, it all just – cleared away like fog.

She had failed. She never wanted anyone to see that darkest part of her. She was sure she had secured everything in place after what she had done to the miners and guards alike in Cidhna Mines, but after hearing what was about to happen to Nassari . . .

The door shut loudly and Libby jumps in her seat, her arms shaking. She only calms slightly when she sees it to be Nassari, carrying a blanket. Libby doesn't look at her even as Nassari wraps the blanket around her like Libby is a child. "There you are, Lilian."

Libby cringes at that confounded name. Nassari sits next to her, now dressed in a cotton nightgown. Libby doubts she'll be able to sleep tonight, and even if she does, Libby might not.

After Kodlak and a couple of guards led her out, they wanted to bring the girls to somewhere safe; why that's still in the castle, Libby doesn't know why. But she was able to draw enough sense that she had mumbled the music room. Being surrounded by music, it gave Libby a little bit of comfort.

Instruments from all around Tamriel are here, each a proud representation of their country, built in wood, or metal. From grand pianos and harpsichords from Cyrodiil, to lutes and lyres of High Rock; flutes and oboes and clarinets of Valenwood, to drums and bells from Hammerfell, and trumpets and horns of Morrowind; stringed instruments of violins, violas and massive cellos from the Summerset Isles, and harps and pipes from the Black Marsh and Elsweyr. The ones mounted on the wall aren't for playing, but merely observation.

No on protested, and Libby and the princess held hands the whole walk there. Libby didn't want to let go of her, she doesn't even think she wants to leave the castle again if threats continue on.

She hopes that Zusa heard, in detail, about what Libby had done to Marionette. She hopes Zusa hears and knows to stay the hell away from her and the princess.

She had managed to wash the blood off, having spent over two hours in the tub, taking three baths just to ensure she washed every ounce of Marionette's blood off her skin. Then Nassari had brought her some fresh cotton clothes.

Libby wraps the blanket tighter around herself, hugging her knees to her chest. The heat of fire doesn't seem to be reaching her at all. For a moment, Libby darkly jokes about how to frozen heart is probably leeching away the heat. Like Farkas had jokes, perhaps she had spent so long without warmth that she now possesses a heart of ice.

Nassari shifts next to her, tucking her legs underneath herself. Libby knew she wanted to talk about what happened, another reason why Libby is even more upset. She never wanted anyone to see that side of her again. That part of it, it belonged in the dark. So it was right at home in Cidhna Mines.

A hand touches her shoulder, and Libby cringes again. "Lilian," the princess speaks.

Libby almost wants to scream.

"Are you all right?" the princess asks in Elsweyr.

"I don't know." Libby whimpers.

"I'm sorry to bring this up, but I wish to ask –" Libby bites her lip hard enough to make it bleed. "– where did you learn how to fight like that? Even if I didn't see much, to _hear_ what you had done . . ."

"I'm sorry about that. I wasn't thinking." Libby says. "I was bent on protecting you and, making her pay that I didn't even take into consideration –"

"Lilian," the princess's hand rubs her shoulder. Each time she says that name, Libby wants to just scream and shatter something. "I owe you my life. And that's all that I understand."

A sob escapes Libby's lips. She doesn't even realize she's crying until she feels the warmth of her tears on her cheeks.

"Please. Please don't call me that." Libby says.

"Lili –"

"I'm not who I pretend to be." Libby interjects. Her voice is quiet, unable to meet her friend's eyes. "Lilian doesn't exist." Nassari doesn't say anything. Libby makes herself look at the princess in the eye. She had made Nassari suffer through excruciating minutes of having to listen to the death pleads and screams of Marionette. And after the extent she went through to protect Nassari . . . She owes her friend the truth. "My name is Libitania Desidenius."

Nassari's mouth parts and she scoots a half inch away from Libby. "But they sent you to Cidhna Mines. You were supposed to be in Cidhna Mines with –" Nassari's eyes widened. "You speak the Elsweyr of the peasants – of those enslaved in Cidhna Mine. That is how you learned." Libby's eyes water and her breathing becomes a bit difficult. Nassari's lips tremble. "You went . . . you went to _Cidhna Mines_. That place is a death camp. But . . . why did you not tell me? Do you not trust me?"

"Of course I do." Libby says, wanting so bad to touch the princess's hand. "I was ordered by Kodlak not to speak a word of it."

"A word of what?" Nassari says sharply, blinking back her tears. "Kodlak . . . the Harbinger knows you're here; it's not like him to keep secrets from anyone else, especially the Jarl."

"It's complicated." Libby sighs. She lets her legs drape over the lip of the couch, holding the blanket closer. "I was originally hired by the Prince of Morthal, to assassinate and eliminate each and every member of the Companions. It was easy at the start, until I found out that my only friend was a part of the guild, and then things became complicated. Kodlak later came to me and offered me a place in the Companions for reasons I don't know. And now . . . now it's becoming more and more difficult to fulfill my contract with the Prince of Morthal, and if I don't follow his orders, then I will be sent back to the mines to rot."

Nassari is silent, damning Libby with a blank stare.

"Look, I thought this would be a simple contract like all the others." Libby says, her voice rising. "He promised me that he would clear my name and that I would be free. It was either this, or Cidhna Mines! I didn't have a choice." Her eyes start to water, but Libby keeps her blurry vision on the princess. "But now . . . now I've _let_ myself get close to them, as close as I can get. And now I _know_ that I can't fulfill this contract. But before you go and run behind the guards and tell them who I am, just know –" Libby chokes and a sob escape her lips. She briefly covers her mouth and swallows. "– know that I am grateful for what you've given me. I haven't experienced such friendship in a long while. And what we had, it was all real. It wasn't an act. I wasn't using you for my own advantage."

More sobs breach past her chapped lips. She covers her mouth and begins to choke on air, huffing and breathing and gasping. She cocoons herself, bringing her legs up and her knees touching her chin. The darkness of her mind churns and it throws forth the images that she had forced herself to try and forget. Nassari remains silent. The fire crackles. In the quiet, people, places, words echo in her mind.

Then, the couch groans as the cushion compresses, and she feels Nassari's warm hands dig through the blanket to grasp Libby's. Libby looks up and through her tears she sees the princess' soft face.

The princes squeezes Libby's hand. "You are my greatest friend too, Libitania. I honestly never expected such a strong bond to grow between us, but I will admit that I had admired you since the first day we met." Nassari's crystal-blue eyes shine. "And after what you did for me today, I am – jubilant to see just how far your love and care for me goes. I never would thought that Skyrim's Assassin would ever safe my life."

Libby chokes on a laugh, using her free hand to wipe her tears.

"I know what you went through in Cidhna Mines. I know what my people endure there, day after day. But you did not let the mines harden you; you did not let it shame your soul into cruelty. Names are not important. It's what lies inside of you that matters."

The princess rubs her thumb across Libby's knuckles, the assassin feeling self-conscious at how dry and cracked her hands have gotten, like they do every winter.

"I thank you for sharing such information with me, and I promise, until the times comes, that I shall carry it to my grave. And if I may, I would like to name you as well. A bestowing upon you, that you may carry to remind you how loved and important you are." Nassari's hand lifts o Libby's brow, brushing aside her bangs and tracing a mark. Libby's skin tingles and she can feel a wave of . . . empowerment wash over her. "I will name you Solantir, 'Defender of the Weak.'" She kisses the assassin's brow. "You are a fighter for all of the good reasons. Though you may be going through the troubling thought that you aren't loved as much as you love others, but just like him, don't ever give in to that is all in vain."

Libby is held in place but she slowly starts to unwind from herself. She can feel that familiar wave, but with more of assurance, covering her like a shimmering veil. This is unconditional love. She is undeserving of such friends. Why is she so fortunate as to have found one?

"Come," Nassari says brightly. "Tell me all about how you became Skyirm's Assassin, about your friend Diamond, and how you ended up in the hands of a backwash prince." Libby smiles slightly.

Nassari manages to grab a couple more blanket and orders pillows and a tray of light food to be delivered. Bundled down in their cushioned nest, Libby tells Nassari everything she can until she falls asleep.

Back in Jorrvaskr, Diamond takes out her earrings and sets them in the drawer of her end table. She had spent the last hour pulling out every pin and braid in her hair, sighing with relief when her hair finally fell around her shoulders.

While she can't really say her night was ruined by the assassination attempt on Nassari, it certainly did dampen the fun. Almost all of the guests wanted to leave, but the band still played for a couple more songs. At least she got to devour most of the food and wine, surprised she even had an appetite at all after what she had seen Libby do to Marionette.

Gods, it still gives her shivers to think about what Libby had to do to inflict such marks and openings on the Faceless Assassin. The blood was _everywhere_. Not just the walls and floor, but several pieces of furniture had looked like that had gotten caught in the crossfire. There were speckles of it on the bed, on the couch, sprays of it on the wall, Diamond could've sworn she saw a small dent in the wall from where Libby might've smashed Marionette's head.

She shivers and starts to undo the strap of her shoes. Her ankles had small red spots and blisters from when she had sprinted up the steps to the princess's chamber. When she takes them off, Diamond groans with pleasure as she stretches and flexes her toes and itches her feet.

Tossing them aside, she begins to tackle her dress. While she would love to stay in it and feel pretty forever, she can't stand this damned corset much longer.

She had already forgotten how Libby had helped her in it in the first place, and since she had a corset on, she would need an extra set of hands. Drooping her shoulders and groaning, Diamond sets out to locate Ria, seeing how she could be her most willing participant.

She leaves Kodlak's chambers and heads down the hall towards the shared room of the Companions, when the doors to the Living Quarters open. Diamond doesn't pay much attention until she hears the clinking of armor. Looking up, her heart stops when she finds Vilkas staring at her. Instinctively, Diamond brings her arm up to support the bodice of her dress, making sure it didn't sink too low.

Her cheeks grow warm, but she tries to be casual. "Have you seen Ria? I need her help."

"She's actually occupied outside." Vilkas says, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder. "I think Torvar drank too much at the ball."

"You're surprised?"

"Not that he drank, just that he has a hangover. One would think a man of his, tolerance, would be better suited for mead."

"I think it's something he's trying to accomplish. I will admit it's amusing to watch him fail." Diamond shrugs.

Vilkas chuckles, and a smile with teeth spreads across his lips. Diamond can't help but smile along, briefly admiring how handsome he looks when he's not brooding; even though she's still upset with him.

"What did you need help with?" he asks.

Diamond swallows, adjusting her arm. "Um, well . . . it's a girl thing."

Vilkas tilts his head. "I'm sure anyone would help." Diamond gives him a weary look, her heart skipping a couple speeds. "Let me help you."

Diamond blinks. Then blinks again. "No." she says and quickly turns away.

"Let me help you Diamond, it's not a big deal." Vilkas says as he follows after her.

"Yes it is a big deal, Vilkas!"

"How?"

"What do – _what_!? What do you mean how?! Vilkas, I'll be exposed."

"Diamond, all I'm doing is loosening the strings of your corset. Nothing more. Besides, you should be glad to accept my offer."

"Oh, just like you wanted me to be glad about accepting your compliment about my warhammer techniques?" Diamond says and stomps back to Kodlak's chambers without waiting for an answer.

She hears Vilkas coming in after her. "Diamond no one else is available. They are all occupied with what happened at the castle. Even Kodlak stayed behind to observe the crime scene and make sure Libby and the princess were okay."

Diamond momentarily relaxes, only because her thoughts started do distract her. There's no doubt Libby would sleep with the princess tonight, perhaps for a handful of days until she gets clarification that Nassari's life is no longer in any danger.

She still can't believe what Libby had done to Marionette, but a dark part of her feels like dancing again; because Libby had just eliminated a member of the Faceless. Diamond didn't think it was possible, but despite her dark joy, she's also worried because it could only mean that Libby is more powerful and skilled than she let Diamond believe.

Footsteps approach her, snapping from her thoughts. She feels Vilkas' shadow upon her and she stumbles back. "Hey, hey, hey! N-No. I said no." she stutters and crosses the threshold into Kodlak's room.

"Diamond, I told you. No one else, or no other girl, is able to help right now."

"Torvar has to stop vomiting eventually. And if it's outside, why doesn't Ria just leave him?"

"Because she doesn't want him face planting into it again."

Diamond folds in her lips, damning the true fact. She still cringes at the many times she had to help Torvar clean up, washing off all of his own vomit. It was one of the many things that made them friends.

"Look, I'll just loosen the string enough and when you think you can handle it yourself, I'll leave."

Diamond shifts. Her arm still blocks and holds up her bodice, the skirt of her dress puddling at her feet. She could just step away and dismiss him, and she really, _really_ doesn't want to ruin this dress in the slightest. And it would seem like whatever was between them the night they had danced together, it's gone. "Fine." Diamond pouts.

She immediately turns around and brings her hair forward, over one shoulder. Vilkas' feet approach, her heart thumping loudly. Diamond takes deep breaths and wills herself to calm down.

She begins to feel Vilkas' fingers fiddle with the string that laces the back of her dress together. Stiffening slightly, Diamond rolls her shoulders and forces herself to relax. It surprises her when she feels how fast Vilkas' fingers work to loosen the string, the dress falling onto her arm in a manner of a minute.

Diamond quickly holds it up until she feels her waist is released. Sighing with relief, she looks over her shoulder to Vilkas who looks indifferent, his expression only changing slightly, but she still can't read it. When she turns her head back around, she nods slightly to give him the cue to start undoing the string of her corset. She can't thank the Divines enough that she's wearing a floor length slip underneath.

She begins to feel Vilkas' fingers work once more, going slower to make sure he doesn't pull too tight. They're both silent, and Diamond bites her lower lip.

"Any tighter and I would've lost circulation in my ribs." She speaks. Vilkas simply answers with a huff of his breath, but at least she can hear the smile it holds.

Finally she feels the confounded thing loosen and she sighs with relief, taking in a deep breath to stretch her abdomen. The dress begins to fall more and Diamond adjusts her hold, still having the waistline of the dress cover her as more of the corset starts to loosen.

But then she freezes when she feels Vilkas' callus fingers trace up her bare arms. Their touch is light as a moth's wings, and they run their way up to the top of her shoulders. A shiver runs down her spine, but she doesn't feel at all in any danger. But why . . . ?

Then she feels Vilkas' whole hand touch her shoulders and he runs his hands along her arms sending another shiver across her back. When they reach her waist, one rests on her hip and the other trails back up her arm. Diamond takes a shaky inhale of breath and dares to look over her shoulder.

She can only catch a glance before she has to turn her head away as Vilkas leans in and she feels his forehead against the bare skin of her shoulder. She freezes and feels a small electric current through her back. She can feel his breath as he exhales heavily, like something is troubling him.

_You should stop him_! _Remember what he said to you days before_! A voice in her head says. Oh yeah, she calls that voice common sense. But his touch is so soft, so warm . . .

Diamond gasps softly when Vilkas' lips suddenly touch a spot just below her shoulder. With his lips still pressed against her skin, she feels him murmur. "I'm sorry."

That makes her heart jump to jackrabbit speed. She shifts slightly, and Vilkas' lips start to trail up her shoulder to her neck.

_Oh gods_ –

Diamond couldn't help but angle her head slightly, allowing him more room. And her breathing hitches when she feels his lips kiss the spot just behind her ear. She can feel his hair tickling her skin, feel the warmth of his breath and of his skin as he presses his lips into the back of her neck.

The hand on her hip pulls her closer to him, and Diamond gasps again. She could almost feel his heartbeat, jumping fast as if wanting to leap out. "I'm sorry." Vilkas whispers again.

Diamond turns her head slowly, and can only see the lining of Vilkas' hair against her shoulder. Then he lifts his head and his eyes find hers. Diamond's heart feels like it's about to burst.

She turns more towards him, not breaking their stare.

And there . . . she sees it. That same expression and look in those eyes that had captured her the night they had danced together.

Why? Why is he being like this? The man is as different as fire and ice. He's warm and welcoming one day, then cold to her the next. She'll never understand men. And even without the intimacy, she still appreciates and accepts his apology.

Vilkas blinks and then he clears his throat. "I'll be taking my leave. Hope you can at least sleep tonight." He says with a sad smile. He then turns and leaves the room, closing the bedroom door behind him.

For a moment, Diamond's heart sinks with disappointment. Why was he afraid to get close to someone? Was he trying to just mess with her? Diamond lifts her arm to scratch at her neck, carefully to avoid the spot where Vilkas' lips touched.

Her arm – but, wait . . .

Diamond can feel her heart explode.

She looks down and finds her dress puddled around her feet. All that remains on her is her loosened corset and the silk slip.

Her cheeks become so red that Diamond worries it will never return to its normal tone. She practically drops to her knees in embarrassment, gripping the edge of the bed to support herself. She braces her hand against her head, feeling slight nausea rock her stomach.

Oh gods, he saw –!

Practically fighting her way out of the rest of her clothes, Diamond throws them inside the drawer of the table at the end of the bed. She hangs her beautiful dress in Kodlak's wardrobe and throws herself on the bed. Gathering the pillow around her face, diamond screams until her throat is saw, cursing Vilkas' name in vain.

* * *

She remembers.

The sky was an unworldly darkness, and the rain was driving in sheets, making visibility poor. She always feared storms as a child, and since she didn't want her father ridiculing her for being pathetic, nor to disturb her father as she knew he was exhausted, she slunk to their room where her mother had retired for the night. Everything was black as the night, the panes of the window flapping angrily in the wind.

She lied in the bed, unconscious and not moving even from the harsh banging. She closed their window for the, ignoring the puddle her feet splash in as she did. She wiped them off on the rug, trying to ignore the smell of copper and iron. That scent did not sit well with her.

She crawled into their bed, carefully shaking her mother's shoulder, shivering herself from how cold it was. How long was that window open? Her mother didn't move, didn't reach for her or ask her what was wrong.

The bed was so cold – colder than her own, and the smell of copper got stronger, to the point that she was starting to get a headache.

It was the scent she awoke to when the maid screamed.

It was the scent that poisoned her when her father came rushing into the room, his skin pale, his eyes wild and splatters of blood on his face and clothes. In his hands were two wicked looking daggers dripping with blood. He sheathed them and went straight for the bed and leaned across her mother's corpse.

She was scared and confused; to the point that she actually thought her father would murder her. Why was her father covered in blood? Why was she covered in blood? What happened with –?

Even when her father lifted her from her mother, she didn't cover her eyes, and so she saw. Her mother's eyes were rolled in the back of her head, her mouth hanging open. A deep cut was sliced across her delicate throat, spilling out veins and the bone of her spine brought forward. Her nose had a string of dried blood on it. Her tongue sliced out and eyes no more than empty sockets black with her blood.

The blood of which stained little her wool nightgown as her father carried her.

She knew enough about death to understand that once a cut like that has been made, that deep across the throat, there is no coming back from it.

Knew that her once beautiful and shining mother, who had loved her and her father so much, was gone.

Her mother, she was – dead. _Murdered_.

She remembers.

Her father held her tightly as he rushed from the room. The air got instantly warmer and smelt of smoke and charcoal as they entered the hall. Her father kept her cradled in one arm, the other holding her head, pressing it into his cloaked shoulder. She didn't dare move as her father's feet smoothly glided them down the hall.

But from what she saw, this had to have been a nightmare.

Bodies were everywhere, servant and guard alike. They were her guards because she recognized the embroidered etching of Auriel on their armor. Puddles of blood were everywhere, staining the carpets and splashing high as her father sprinted. Fires smoldered most of the house. Everything was burning. She recognized nothing, and she knew this house like the back of her tiny hand.

Blood and destruction was everywhere.

All the while, her father kept his hand on her head, keeping it pressed to his shoulder. "Libby," he breathed as he rounded a corner. She looked to her father, connecting the dots of blood on his sharp jawline. "We're going to play a game."

She was baffled, wondering how a game fits into all of this.

Her father kept his gaze ahead, still sprinting, but she barely felt the harsh bouncing.

"I want you to close your eyes."

She immediately shook her head. If she dared closed her eyes, then she would see her mother, blood staining her clothes and the bed around them, slaughtered like an animal –

Nausea rocked her stomach. Immobilized by her fear, she becomes blinded by tears. Shaking hit her so hard that it was a miracle she didn't fall out of her father's arms. Her father gripped her tighter, leaning his lips close to her little ears. "Libby, Libby, stay with me."

She's frightened by what she sees, but she knew there was more to come. She burrowed deeper into her father, savoring his warmth and trying to block out the smell of blood.

Anything to block out that smell.

"I need you to close your eyes, Libitania." Her father repeated. "And we're going to count to ten. When I finish, you can only open your eyes, when I say so. Okay?"

She nodded numbly.

"Good girl." Her father exhaled and she froze when she saw her father draw one of those wicked daggers. He pulled a black hood over his head, and a mask of ebony over the lower half of his face. "Close your eyes, now."

She did as she was told, her skin tingling with the sound of clinking armor and heavy footsteps. She clenched her eyes closed, gripping the thick, red-stained cloak of her father with a vise-like grip.

_One_.

There was the sound of a scream, quickly followed by gurgling blood and a loud thud. Her world stopped and spun and the metal of her father's dagger whistled as is soared through the air.

_Two_.

The dagger whistled and struck metal, a shield, and suddenly her father's footsteps stopped.

_Three_.

She felt the point of a spear brush past her leg. Her father's free arm catches it, grips it and pulls it forward, kneeing the man in his helmet head, knocking him out. Screams chased them down the hall.

_Four_.

Her father made it another few bursts before he quickly dropped low, the heavy whoosh of another shield soaring over her head. Her father lunges forward, burying his dagger into the man's sternum. More gurgling. More coughing. Another thud.

_Five_.

She could feel her father's arm lift, and the sound of metal clanging rattled her skull and deafened her ears. Her father grunted as he shoved off, and struck another shield. When the owner went to swing his broad blade, her father ducked low.

_Six_.

Feet moving, her father's grip tightened as they were sent careening forward into a roll and smoothly pushing them both up and continuing on.

_Seven_.

"Almost there, Libitania. Keep counting." said her father, his voice still steady even if breathless. Her father's feet picked up speed. She dared to peek out of the corner of her eyes. The blaze of fire was everywhere, a wooden support beam from above barely missing them both as it collapsed from the ceiling. They were heading for a long window with gold draperies.

_Eight_.

She recognized that window. It was on the second floor, roughly seventy-feet high.

_Nine_.

There was no room for questioning, no room for fear or sorrow or anything except that blinding rage and cold, viscous calculation. Her father's legs raced, straight as an arrow, each pump of his powerful arms and legs bringing them closer.

Escape, that's all that mattered now.

_Ten_.

They reach the end of the hallway and her father leapt.

There's the sound of glass shattering, and Libby finally gives word to her emotions as she screams, feeling the viscous shards cut into her face and embed in the back of her skull. Wind howled in her ear like demons.

Even when she felt her father's arms hold her close, even when darkness enveloped her, she still couldn't escape the smell of her mother's blood.

* * *

Libby gasped as she jolts awake. She gasps for breath, a scream fighting to escape her lips. She rockets upwards, her chest heaving. Her legs entangle themselves in the sheet, making her panic thinking it was someone's hands. A choked scream scratches her throat and kicks it off, scrambling back and hitting her head against the edge of a table.

Panic sears through her at the enclosed space, but all she does is hold her forehead with both hands and curl on her side, grunting the pain into grit teeth. An unfamiliar tingling prickles along her limbs, like the faint buzz of static electricity.

The faint pins-and-needles sensation, still there, buzzes through her like a soft vibration, though the closer she drifts to full conciseness, the faster it seems to fade.

Opening her eyes, the room comes into focus. She immediately recognizes the black grand piano tucked in the corner by the window. The large pan flute mounted on the wall, and the sheet music set on the console table. The sound of the crackling of the dying fire.

Something moves under the sheets, and Libby squeaks. It was supposed to be a scream, but her throat is dry. The form becomes familiar as a furry arm reaches around and Nassari pushes herself to face the assassin.

She's in Dragonsreach. She's in Dragonsreach, with the Princess.

Nassari sees Libby's panicked form and leans forward. "Libby, is everything all right?"

Libby clutches her chest, still beating quickly, her breathing uneven. She tries to shake her head, but it only sends the room spinning.

A dream. It was only a dream. And its over.

Unfortunately, it doesn't stop the nausea that floods over her afterwards, and Libby springs up from her spot on the floor, a hand covering her mouth. She barely makes it to the bathroom before she collapses to her knees, leaning over the tub and starts vomiting profusely. Moments later, claws fingers pull and hold back her hair.

She grips the edge of the tub, her hands shaking. She heaves, and heaves, and heaves; nothing but bile and small remnants of her dinner the night before.

Her body is shaking, gleaming with sweat by the time she stops. She slouches forward, the tiles cooling her hot body. For once Libby is grateful for the early morning chill as she rolls herself slightly to the left to get more of the ice cube-like tiles against her flaring skin.

Strong arms then lift her, and she hear Nassari strain slightly as she carries Libby back out to the main room. She's set on the couch again, and the blankets are around her again. Nassari sets pillows all around Libby, the assassin tiredly giggling.

Libby nestles down farther, wrapping herself around the pillow as she closes her eyes.

It is over.


	30. Chapter 29

Farkas hops up the steps from the living quarters of Jorrvaskr, adjusting his gauntlets. It's been at least a week since the assassination attempt of Princess Nassari, and Libby has been bunking in Dragonsreach there ever since. She no longer trusting the guards of being capable of protecting the princess.

Things have already been settled among the Jarl and Kodlak, clarifying that it was the Faceless Assassin who murdered the guards both at the front doors and the doors to the princess's chambers. Libby having only mutilated the assassin. Farkas still shivers at the look of wildness in Libby's eyes. He'd heard the story of how Libby had rampaged through Cidhna Mines six months to a year after she had been imprisoned.

That must've been what she looked like. That feral look on her face, the wildness in her eyes. He was worried she would lop his head off if he dared got too close. The first night Libby stayed with the princess, guards reported hearing squeaks and slight screams, but the princess had come to them denying it. Where will the princes be staying now? They can't possibly be putting her back into her old rooms; not when the gruesome crime is still fresh.

As Farkas makes his way over to the table, he finds Diamond, Aela and Vilkas already sitting, separately. Farkas goes over to Diamond, the blonde Companion looking up as he approaches. "Morning." He says with his gentlest smile.

"Hey." Diamond says. Already he can tell something is on her mind, but it's not his business.

"Have you heard from Libby?"

Diamond merely shakes her head, not taking her eyes off of her plate in front of her. Farkas grunts in annoyance. But just as he's about to ask Diamond another question, the doors to Jorrvaskr open and in steps Libby.

She looks fine, except for the absolute exhaustion in her she eyes, slight purple under her eyes. She comes in wearing a simple green tunic and brown pants. All of it hidden beneath a thick brown leather cloak. Nothing special about it, all simple. Her hair is in a small about her shoulders, a couple of daggers at her waist.

Her eyes find Farkas immediately and she gives a tried smile. Heads have all turned up to her, but Farkas is the only one who approaches her. He comes up to her and her hand reaches out. He takes it and steps close to her, his lips just brushing the skin of her forehead. He pulls her out of the way of the doors and towards a bench where they sit.

"Are you all right?" he murmurs.

She gives a nod of her head. She lifts her head to him, the green of her eyes seems to have faded, as if the color too has grown wan. "They'll be having guards posted out of each and every possible entry of her new rooms, but I still don't trust them unless I'm there."

"Do you plan on staying at Dragonsreach for the rest of the time that she is here?" Farkas asks as his arm gently rubs her shoulders.

"No, but I'm just afraid to leave her alone now. Or at least until I hunt down the bastard who sent the Faceless in the first place." She growls, her voice growing immediately deep.

"I'm sure the princess loves having you around." Farkas says, trying his best to add humor without sounding inconsiderate.

Libby nods, a ghost of a smile on her pink lips. "It's actually why I'm here to see Kodlak." Libby goes on. "I want to ask him to give me some time to go and hunt down the Stormcloak who threatened Nassari's life."

A weight settles on Farkas' chest. He swallows, clearing his throat and taking an uneasy step back. "H-How long will you be gone?"

Libby looks to him, her eyes unreadable. "As long as it takes to ensure that he is good and dead; and to send a message to the Stormcloaks to never go after her again. Or I'll slaughter them all myself."

The weight gets heavier and Farkas squeezes Libby's hand. "You will be coming back, right?"

When Libby's settle on him this time, some gentleness has returned and for some reason, she gives a small smile. "I will try. I have a mark on every Stormcloak camp in Skyrim and now that I've narrowed it down, I'll begin my search throughout the Hold."

"You know Kodlak might not let you go."

"Permission hasn't stopped me before. I just wanted to bring the matter to who attention so he'll know where I'll be – even if he says no."

Farkas sighs. He can't stop her; he knows this. Her determination is one of the many traits he both loves and hates about her. "Let me come with you."

"No." she says, rising from her seat, but Farkas pulls her down again.

"Libby, I want to come with you."

"I know you do, but you can't."

"Why?"

"Because you're a Nord." Her words hurt Farkas even though she didn't mean to use it as an insult. She quickly follows with, "Your Guild I known widely around Skyrim, as I'm sure you're names are as well. And I don't want you tarnishing yours and their reputation. Besides, I'm not going as Lilian, not anymore. I'm going as Libitania, and I don't think it'll be wise for a Companion to be seen with Skyrim's Assassin."

"That hasn't stopped us before." Farkas grins.

This makes her giggle and her cheeks become slightly pink. She sets her hand on Farkas' and rubs her thumb along his callus knuckles. "Look Farkas, I appreciate what you want to do. But I have to do this on my own. I will come back for you. Always."

She kisses Farkas' cheeks and they kiss before the doors to the living quarters open again. Kodlak comes up the steps and Libby rises from her seat. Farkas tries to stop her, but she ignores him. "Libby –"

"Kodlak," she calls, and all heads turn to her, Kodlak noticing her as he takes his seat at the table. Libby takes a seat next to him.

"Good morning Libitania." He smiles. "Here, let me have a look at you, I seem to have forgotten what you look like."

Libby gives her best smile at his joke referring to her week spent in Dragonsreach. "I apologize for my absence. But I wanted to discuss something with you."

Farkas comes down the steps and sits in the seat next to Libby. Diamond is watching Libby and Kodlak closely, as if Vilkas and Aela. A part of Libby is rather hurt and insulted that they don't trust her by now. She's even sent out a letter already to Prince Joric regarding her contract. No doubt he'll come red in the face, but it won't matter to him once he has his gold.

"What is it, youngling?" Kodlak asks as he pours his cup of tea.

"I wanted to bring to your attention that I'll be leaving the Companions for some time."

Kodlak looks to her with eyebrows narrowed, and a stiffness settles in the air. "Oh really? And what might this be for?"

"I want to hunt down the Stormcloak solider and make him pay for his attempt on Princess Nassari's life." Libby says bluntly.

Kodlak's shoulders slouch and he sighs through his nose. He sets down the cup of tea he was about to drink and clears his throat. "Well, I know I can't stop you even if I say no."

"I'm afraid not. And I'm going as Libitania."

"Rather risky maneuver, don't you think?"

"Better than going as Lilian Camobrook. I didn't want to put your reputation on the line – or well not anymore."

Behind her, Farkas and Athis give a soft chuckle.

"Kodlak, this is something of a more personal matter. This isn't me taking a side in the war, rather taking vengeance on a pathetic man who targeted my friend." Libby explains. "I'm going on whether or not you say yes, but I'm bringing the matter to your attention."

Despite her words, Libby's heart is beating rather fast, but she keeps her chin high and shoulders squared.

Kodlak stares at her, chewing on her words and taking a deep inhale through his nose. "How long will you be gone?"

"I've narrowed down the camps in in both Whiterun and other Holds surrounding it. And I have my camp."

Kodlak nods and sighs once more. "Very well Libitania. I grant you your journey." Relief floods the assassin and she smiles brightly. "Now, as an exchange, I would like to ask that you undertake a travel before your departure. And I still need you both to travel out to Glenmoril Coven, the days are growing close."

Libby nods despite her heart lodging in her throat. "Fair enough."

Kodlak looks over Libby's shoulder and calls, "Diamond!" Libby grows stiff, but she still turns back to find Diamond frozen in her seat, her cheeks from the bite she took of a loaf of bread. "Come here," Kodlak motions. The blonde Companion blinks and stiffly sets down her food and swallows as she rises from her seat. "You too, Farkas, Vilkas."

The three Companions gather around Libby and Kodlak, wiping their mouths and drinking their water or mead.

"Now, before your departure, Libitania, I ask that you and your Shield-Siblings undertake a travel. We've received a missive that three Riverwood girls have gone missing. They were last seen around the Pale Pass, and haven't been home for a couple of days."

"What about the princess?" Diamond asks, and to Libby's surprise, she looks to her.

"I'm willing enough to let her be while I'm off. I plan on setting down spells to guard her rooms." Libby bites her lip, and decides to blurt out with impulse, "She knows, too."

Silence. Kodlak's eyes widen slightly, his eyebrows high.

"She knows who I am." Libby repeats.

"What?" speaks Farkas. He sets his hand on the back of her chair. "When did you tell her?"

"About an hour after we had settled in the music room the day of her assassination attempt. I just – couldn't stand lying to her anymore. Not after what she saw me do to –" Libby shakes her head. "And I told her everything: about the mines, why I originally was here, and why I'm here now."

"That means she also knows who hired you to kill us." Vilkas says.

"Yes. But don't bother trying to pry her for answers. She's sworn to secrecy for me." Libby says with an appreciative smile.

"She seems to have handled it well, seeing how you spent the rest of the week in Dragonsreach with her." Kodlak says.

Libby shrugs, that small smile still on her lips. "If anything, I think it's made us closer. I've told her things I didn't think I would tell anyone else."

A small pain pinches both Diamond and Farkas at the same time, but the two remain quiet. "When do we leave?" Libby asks.

"Around early evening. But be down by the main gate by five o'clock. Good luck to you all." And with that, the Harbinger dismisses the group. Libby and Farkas leave the hall together, Vilkas retreating out back; leaving Diamond to sit with the Harbinger.

"Why did you let her go?" Diamond asks, staring into her tankard of ale.

"Because she asked."

"If you granted anyone their wishes just because they asked, you wouldn't be Harbinger." Diamond snaps and immediately she bites back her lips.

Kodlak takes a sip of tea, Diamond assuming it's another one of Libby's brews. "Do you speak with jealousy, or of concern, Diamond? Otherwise I see no point in this discussion."

"It's just –" Why was she bringing this up? She is a little jealous Kodlak had so easily let Libby go. She had gone to him countless times, but he denied her given her position as a welp. But he doesn't need to know that. "I thought you would've put up more of an argument."

"Not like she would've listened anyway if I had said no. She made that relatively clear. Besides, I saw that spark in her eyes, and I knew better than to warn her away."

"You're not afraid of her, are you?"

"No. No I'm not. I just see something in her that can be molded, changed." Kodlak picks up a sweet roll and takes a bite.

"Is that why you let her in?"

"One of the reasons." Kodlak admits.

"Some people can't be changed."

"You never know, Diamond." He looks to her with those silver eyes. "You did."

Diamond feels her chest grow heavy and a numbness prickling through her legs. "We are nothing alike."

"Maybe not in all ways, but you are in some. You've both been through hardships, but remained bright in the darkest of times."

Diamond breathes to try and control her growing anger. She's had this discussion with Kodlak before, and she doesn't want to have it again.

So, the Companion simply excuses herself from the table before heading outside with her warhammer. She and a training dummy had some things to whack about.

Grinding through the hours with reading and training, Libby made it down to the main gates at five, dressed in her armored uniform Farkas had given her. The twins had already been down there, armed to the teeth with multiple belts of weapons and blades. Apparently, the missing children case had enough concern to have the Companions be involved. But Libby had a feeling that this mission no doubt involved something dangerous if the warriors were coming along. Otherwise they would've just sent some guards.

Diamond arrived in her chitin armor, her hair loose with her glass warhammer on her back. Libby packed along her trusted bow and belt of daggers, with duel ebony swords strapped to her back. Once they were all gathered they set out. Libby had let them borrow a couple of her Charrolian horses for the trip, priding herself in the twins' gazes of astonishment – as well as every other citizen of Whiterun.

Then the next few more hours were spent riding and walking with minimal rest breaks in account to the cold.

And now, here they are, deep within the canyon walls of Pale Pass. The red stone glints in the afternoon light. The thick sequence of ancient rocks that are beautifully preserved and exposed in the walls of the canyon. Nearly two billion years of Skyrim's geological history have been exposed as the mountain water streams and its tributaries cut their channels through layer after layer of rock.

Libby's nose is tipped scarlet as she shields her eyes and tries to gaze up at the towering walls of a cliff. The horses ran the entire way there, and Libby can't help but pride herself at how well they managed to tolerate the trek, keeping eyes on Companions as she effortlessly led the pack.

They stopped to one of the Falkreath a few miles out from the pass and managed to meet up with the family at their home. Once they had the story of the three missing girls, Libby didn't feel that much better.

Apparently, the family assumed that the girls had been carried off by some winged creatures known as Harpies. When questioned with doubt, the family testified that they had seen dark shadows flying overhead in the last hours of light and they heard screeching and screaming. Diamond was the only one who seemed disturbed, whereas everyone else seemed more concentrated. The blonde Companion tried her best to quell her surprise.

Once they left the family and were on the run again.

Since Libby was the only one Diamond could talk to, she had asked what exactly a Harpy was. But because Libby claims she 'didn't want Diamond backing out of the mission,' all she answered with was: "You'll find out soon enough."

Oddly, that didn't ease Diamond's nerves at all.

Now they've settled by a magnificent rockfall that flows into a crystal clear river that cuts through the fjord of the canyon's walls. The walls are supposed to be home to the vial creatures, being named the Caves of the Harpy Clan.

Hearing the word clan, Diamond was surprised. She assumed that these creatures were just wild. It never occurred to her that they might be intelligent enough to form groups of tribes with orders of hierarchy. She also has to wonder if the creatures are nocturnal given they live in caves and are doing well to stay out of the sunlight. And the witnesses had said they came out at the last hours of evening twilight.

The sky is starting to darken, the blue starting to mingle with shades of orange, pink and purple.

Here it's like a natural oasis; there are patches of flowers in full bloom with grass surrounding it, the air is so clean and fresh. As the warm breeze kissed her face, Libby leans into it, almost moaning with pleasure. They set their less important gear on an outcropping of rocks, pulling out the canteens for the horses.

A pat on her shoulder drew her attention from the rock wall to turn to her right. There Diamond found Libby with a canteen of water. She accepts it with a nod. When Libby moves on to pass the rest out, she makes her way over to Farkas who is pacing back and forth, looking for an entrance.

"See anything?" she asks.

"Not form this angle. The walls are too high." he breaths.

Taking a long gulp from her canteen, Diamond angles her head as she stares at Farkas. She peers over at Vilkas, who is gently helping the horses drink from the canteen, Libby securing a couple to a downed tree.

Diamond hasn't been able to look Vilkas in the eye, not since he might've seen her without her dress on. Her cheeks still flare at the thought. He hasn't approached her either, possibly because he's embarrassed as well . . . ? Diamond watches his back muscles shift underneath his armor. His features are much more pronounced; even his jawline seemed more attractive . . .

Diamond shakes her head, nearly smacking herself with her canteen ass he turns away from Vilkas. But when she looks to the river, it's just in time to watch Vilkas shrug off his shirt to get to at the weapons strapped beneath, revealing his broad back, muscled and scarred and glorious. His abdominal muscles looking like little bricks stacked in two columns of . . . twelve?!

Diamond continue to watch awkwardly as Vilkas began to rinse his hands, neck and chest. She watches him sidelong, the way the water gleamed on his skin in the sunlight.

Okay, fine – some _very_ feminine, innate part of her appreciated that. And she didn't really mind the warriors' half-nakedness.

"Alright, I guess we'll have to start climbing." Farkas says.

Diamond's stomach sinks. She approaches the wall again and Farkas hands each of the warriors a rope.

Libby takes it and slings it across her torso, but she doesn't prep it. In her own way of thinking, using the rope seems like more hassle than just climbing it bare handed. It would be most impressive to the Companions, but will she be capable of it? She remembers when she was able to climb the walls of the castle back in Solitude. She could climb from the very bottom all the way up to her balcony of her room that was at least ninety feet off the ground. The good old days.

Angling her head awkwardly, she can see a large cave entrance roughly about the same height. Sighing, Libby looks to her left and finds Farkas smiling. Libby smirks in return and follows after Vilkas. They start climbing, not much talking exchanged safe for the twins making simple exchange about the upcoming Old Life festival.

Soon as they reach the thirty foot mark, Libby's legs begin to tremble and her fingers are starting to ache. She still doesn't want to pull out the rope until she reaches fifty feet. Diamond and Farkas are using it, and Vilkas is climbing without it. Possibly a silent challenge.

This really doesn't seem like the time to challenge her. She needs to focus on getting herself at the top; even if that means grappling the cold and sharp stone with her hands and feet, and passing up all of the large enough ledges and layered stones that provide solid footing. The only thing that demands concern is the large rock overhang above, which no doubt is like the perching area for the harpies.

Gritting her teeth, Libby continues up after sparing a glance at the other warriors next to her. She doesn't look down, as it's always a bad idea. At least her father had the sense to make Libby stand on the very ledge of their mansion home for hours, to get her accustomed to heights. But still, even she still has that urge to jump when standing in high places.

She climbs upwards, grateful that her boots could dig into small cracks between the stones. The sound of trickling pebbles forces his head to look up just as Farkas calls, "Heads up!"

Immediately Libby looks back down, blocking her head with her left hand. She feels dust hiss in her ear and pat her hair, pebbles sprinkling past her and tapping her fingers. She mentally curses herself for not bringing along helmet. Once the thin shower is over, she immediately shakes out her hair, stirring up a small plume of dust. She looks up and finds an eagle flying overhead.

"No doubt a mother." Vilkas says. "Let's keep our distance, we wouldn't want her to think we're targeting her nest."

Libby simply shakes her head, snarling and continues climbing up. The ache and throbbing in her fingers and toes is getting harder and harder to ignore, but thankfully there's a ledge up ahead. She is at least in the middle of the group, the twins leading them. So Libby maneuvers her way right and gasps as she grabs the ledge and hoists herself up, her arms shaking. When her feet plant on the ledge, relief floods her and she kneels on it. She adjusts the swords crossed at her back to assure they won't be going anywhere.

She flexes her fingers, both stiff and covered with light red dust from the rocks. She pops all of her knuckles and flexes her fingers back repeatedly.

Looking at the other warriors, they climb with ease, with a rope or not, though Diamond is looking rather stiff. Farkas swings the lasso of his rope around a protruding rock above him and swings himself high enough to land on it. Vilkas mimics the maneuver, throwing the rope to his right, but instead, he pulls himself up and repeats it to the higher ledge on his left.

Libby sighs heavily as she rises from her kneeling position and first settles her fingers into a crook in the rocks, and then swings herself over, her feet thankfully finding another crevice. She shimmies up the wall, thankful to find a sturdy branch above her. Taking deep breaths, preparing for the bolts of soreness, Libby jumps, and grabs the branch, swinging herself upwards.

Diamond keeps her prayer quiet as she continues to follow the three up the rock wall. Gods, what Libby had done to her when they rode through the Interstice, it's nothing compared to how high they are now. Gods, she _hated _heights. Carefully, trying to hide her shaking hands, she reaches out and hops to a nearby ledge. Her foot slips as she settles on it, nearly pushing her forward, but her hand reaches out and grabs the wall.

Unfortunately, the motion had caused her to look down. She beholds the tiny dots that are now the horses, the river itself looking no bigger than a beetle bug. A shudder runs through her. She needs a distraction.

Without thinking, he speaks. "So, Libby." The assassin pauses and looks down, her eyes so calm, unphased by the fact that they've now past the seventy foot mark. "How is it that the gods could make such repulsive creatures, if going by your description?"

Libby looks back up for a moment and spares Diamond a quick glance before continuing her climb as she says, "Well, the story goes that over six hundred years ago, The Harpies was once the name of a clan of witches, and they worshipped Erinyes, their chaotic deity of vengeance. Back then, the Pale Pass and much of Falkreath Hold was part of their kingdom."

Diamond keeps flicking her eyes from Libby to the rock wall so that she knew where to place her foot and hand.

"They were at war with the Orcs at the time, and when they had been overrun and forced to flee, the witches wanted to curse the goblins; to destroy them as the Orcs had destroyed their land and their kingdom. So, the last Harpy Queen cursed the land to turn against any who bared the blood of an Orc. Plants withered and died, animals fled or starved and the water was undrinkable."

"What does that have to do with them being bird mutants?" Diamond asks. As she finishes her question, her boot suddenly slips on a stone and there is a quick sense of falling, her body swinging slightly as her fingers suddenly dig into the stone. A gasp escapes her lips, loud enough that nearly all of the warriors freeze and a large hand braces against the small of Diamond's back. She quickly grasps the stone again, her heart thundering and eyes wide. She is starting to shake, but even so, she slowly turns to look over her shoulder and finds Vilkas' hand is the one bracing him against the stone.

The warrior's eyes are slightly wide, his eyebrows high. Diamond swallows, her breathing fast. "Thanks." She says, embarrassed to hear her own voice shaking.

Vilkas nods his head and climbs up, keeping his hand on Diamond's back until she is level with the assassin. She doesn't move, so Diamond allows herself to brace against Vilkas' strong hand, the warrior's fingers nearly big enough that his fingers nearly touch Diamond's ribs.

She quickly shakes out her arms and shakes her head, taking deep breaths. She sparse Vilkas a stare of appreciation. Without much of a warning, Diamond grips the stone again and starts to climb. Her fingers still ache, but she hides it until she is level with Libby, eyes still wide.

"You were saying?" Diamond says with an overly bright smile and exhale.

Libby blinks at her for a moment, baffled, but she then shakes her head and continues up. The entrance to the cave grows closer, and right now, Diamond would rather take her chances with the creatures than have to keep climbing more of this confounded rock.

"Anyway, the witches were once gifted with eternal beauty, but when they prayed to their goddess for power capable of defeating the Orcs, in turn, they ended up sacrificing their humanity to become the vial creatures they are now. With the gift of flight, they became a deadly aerial cavalry.

"Even after their victory over the Orcs, there was still trouble within the clan. Only afterwards did they realize that invoking their goddess's power, it had cursed them as well." Libby hoists herself onto a ledge nearest the entrance to the cave, and automatically holds out her hand to Diamond. The Companion takes it without thinking. "They say that the Mother Matriarch Alecto was fighting for dominance with her daughter Tisiphone." Libby says, then grunts as she hoists Diamond onto the ledge. "Their power struggle ended in murder, as they cannibalized each other's children."

A chill goes down Diamond's spine.

"Tisiphone ended up defiling the ways of their goddess, and murdering her mother by burning her alive and eating her heart. The Harpies then rebelled and ended up ripping Tisiphone apart and burning her pieces. They each ate a part of her head and gave her brain as a form of peace offering for their goddess."

"Gods above." Diamond says.

"Without an official Queen to rule the Clan, the rest of the Harpies scattered. And now here we are, present day." Libby says as she splays her arms out.

"Well, what about that curse?" Diamond asks as Farkas swings up onto their ledge.

"With the death of the Harpy Queens, the curse was never lifted. The lands are still fertile now, beautiful even, since the Orcs have since migrated further north."

"Only to be rivaled by the Nords." Vilkas suddenly chimes as he hoists himself up onto the ledge. Libby instantly shushes her as they each near the entrance to the cave.

Libby and Diamond shimmy their way across to the large protruding rock at the mouth of the cave entrance. It stretches far enough that it acts as a runway for the creatures before they take off.

Diamond dares to peer over the edge once more as Farkas makes it to the ledge. Now the mouth of the river is nothing more than the size of an ant. She can't even see the horses anymore.

She had made it.

Sighing, she doesn't have time to congratulate herself as Vilkas prowls towards the cave entrance and Farkas suddenly starts to snarl.

Libby's ears perk and she whirls her head towards the mouth of the cave where the light from the remaining day barely makes it past the threshold before it is just thick, endless darkness. She can barely hear it, but it's still there . . . the shuffling of, feet?

She takes one step towards the cave, but something snaps and pops under her foot. Her second step slips on the jagged edge of something hard, and she stumbles back, her feet sending up a rush of dust.

Regaining her balance, the light confirms her worst fear.

Bones and ash scattered the floor. Her fingers curled, aching to reach for hilt of her dagger strapped to her belt.

"Holy gods." Farkas says.

Hands shaking, Libby kneels down and slides her fingers beneath what looks to be a cap of an ancient skull. It was, indeed, the broken sliver of a face, the curve of a cheek all too evident in the outline. All the pieces were similarly identifiable. Broken fingers, like tiny tombstones, lay scattered in the dust. Half of a hand here. Part of an arm there. A jaw. And ear.

Each and every one of them white as ivory and picked clean.

Libby flings the shard aside. She stands, wiping her hands on her grime-caked pants, then stepping back until she is in line with the rest of the warriors.

"Be ready." Vilkas warns, but none of the warriors reach for their weapons.

And then an unworldly, undoubtable feminine laugh echoes from the mouth of the cave. "Now this is a sight that we haven't seen for an age." The voice is scratchy, dry and has a distinct hiss to it.

The hair of Diamond and Libby immediately stands on end, but they keep their faces neutral like everyone else, raising their chins and keeping their backs straight. There is still enough available light to reveal several pairs of luminescent eyes within the void. They are ancient, merciless – and three massive shadows are slowly lurk within the blackness. More clicking of anisodactyl feet

The voice says, now closer, talons ticking against the dirt. "I can't remember the last time we had been blessed with such, broadness in our presence."

Scratching above makes Diamond look up and she forces herself to stay calm, to hide her fear as she watches one of the harpy creatures crawl along the side of the cave out of the shadows, stopping just at the threshold of light.

Her talon hands are scaly like a bird's and they dig into the stone, making her cling to the wall like a spider. Her arms are thin, covered with liver spots, and sprouting with feathers into a full blown wing. When she turns her head to Diamond, the Companion's stomach sinks.

The harpy's eyes are narrow, and when she grins at Diamond, her thin lips peel back to reveal rows of white teeth, small and sharp and needle-thin. Her smile stretches from ear to ear, and her thin, faded brown hair falls around her head like thin threads.

"Pardon us if we don't seem appreciative of your compliment." Libby suddenly says, her voice steady.

"It's alright. It's understandable, even." The harpy muses. "I'm sure you're much used to it by now; mortals and elves alike groveling at your feet, begging you to bear their eggs, or seeds if you acquire a different . . . taste."

Then she emerges into the murky light, the shadows receding from her like water, slowly exposing herself. Diamond doesn't stop herself as she takes half a step back as two more follow the creature into the light.

Hideous avian-like humanoids with scraggly hair, pale skin, hooked noses and sold black eyes. Their limbs are long and bony, and their hands and feet each have four digits ending in sharp talons. They are dressed in tattered garments and have feathers growing out of their shins and their forearms, or their arms entirely are wings.

But the "leader", her arms are clearly visible, and her wings are on her back. Perhaps there are just varieties of these creatures.

Her hair has been replaced with black feathers that look like the wind has permanently blown them backwards. The blackness continues in her eyebrows, her lips and in the feathers that gather around her perfectly-shaped breasts and around her thin waist, covering her intimate area. It trails behind her in a tail, and coppery-brown strips cover her neck, shoulders, arms, thighs, and ribs. One of them forming a V shape on her forehead. She has a scar in the corner of her mouth and her long black claw nails click as she twindles her four fingers at her sides.

Diamond can almost understand how the witches they were before did hold a form of unworldly beauty.

As she steps closer, Diamond examines her legs – long and smooth and muscled, every inch of elegantly built. He finds himself oddly fascinated with how she steps down; her talons scratch the earth slightly and yet she walks with a certain, feline grace.

Farkas lets out a low growl, but Vilkas holds out a hand to silence him.

"We've come to talk to you." Libby says, but she doesn't take a step forward.

"Oh," the harpy leader says softly. "I am, how you say in the capital, "All ears.""

Libby makes note of the two other harpies that are guarding her sides, and two more dark shadows churning in the back. Off-spring, minions, or guards? But for some reason, the one clinging to the wall on the left is bothering her the most. She still hasn't taken her eyes off of Diamond, not even to look at the others. She stares, unblinking at Diamond, her wide grin molded to her face.

"We've gotten reports of a missing children. And we were told they were seen by your clan's location." Libby says.

"Did they, now?" the harpy remains motionless, but the two behind her creep closer, silent and observing with their dark eyes. "I can assure you that we have a mutual respect with the humans out here in the pass. We keep to our perimeters." She gives a soft, wicked laugh. "However, there is the . . . unfortunate time when a mortal wanders too far from their home."

Libby's flicks her eyes to her left and to her right. Each of the warriors are vigilant; their focus is pinned on the avian creatures, tense from the tips of their noses to their armored boots. She tries not to step away as the one harpy clinging to the wall crawls closer to Diamond, nearly hanging from the ceiling above her. Or look for the eyes she can feel watching them from the nearby cave across the way.

Diamond nearly yelps pathetically as the harpy finally drops from the ceiling, her taloned feet blooming up clouds of ash and dirt. The rest of the members jerk their heads towards her and Diamond can't tear her eyes away from the harpy. Her massive black eyes take her in, swallowing him whole.

Silence falls as the two flanking the leader take small steps closer.

"I like your hair." The harpy then says, her voice sounding just as dry, but higher in pitch.

Diamond tries not to think about the size of the claw of the thumb talon as it reaches for her head. It delicately hooks the strands of hair closest to her ear, the tip of the nail brushing against her skin. It feels as cold as steel in the winter.

Diamond flicks her eyes to the harpy, and she is taller than Diamond by three feet. Her face leans in closer, and the smell of rotting flesh infects Diamond's nose. "It reminds me of silk."

"I suppose I should be flattered." Diamond says, surprising even herself when her voice comes out so smooth.

"Tell me your name, warrior."

"My name does not matter." Diamond says.

The harpy turns her head towards Libby now, relief flooding diamond as the taloned claw slowly releases her hair. She approaches Libby.

The assassin tries not to flinch as the harpy comes even closer. Her nostrils flaring, her warm breath tickling his cheek. "You don't smell like the rest." Libby's hair stands on end.

She can see the lead harpy cock her head. And then when she grins, more pointed, white teeth are revealed. She takes another step towards the warriors, and this time, Libby can see the warriors' fingers twitching.

Libby doesn't particularly care about her beauty, weapon though it is.

"My sister does make a point." The lead harpy says, her large feet tapping against the dust and stone. Farkas stops her with a warning growl that sets the other two harpies coming up behind her. "Your beauty could win you a Prince, perhaps even a King. The color of your skin, the hue of your emerald eyes. The way your hair catches the light, like moonlight on water."

"We've come for three children. Girls. Two sisters and a friend." Libby suddenly demands.

"Oh, children." The leader harpy purrs. "So fresh, so young."

"So you've seen them." Libby continues. She tilts her head away, feeling her hair leave the harpy's long, hooked black nail.

"Why yes. I do recall. We actually have them in the cave."

"Bring them out." Libby demands. But she has a sinking feeling in her stomach. She's expecting the worse.

The harpy grows still further. She turns to the two waiting behind her. "Bring out the three children. We shouldn't keep the assassin waiting."

Libby's heart sinks. She watches the two scuttle back into the cave. When the harpy leader turns back, she smiles again. "How did you –"

"There are some things that you can't hide, assassin." The harpy says. "Or you can try underneath powders and clothes and magic. But your _true_ scent will always betray you. And I can smell years and years of blood on you. It's rather . . . intoxicating." The harpy comes closer. "And your _scars_ . . . what dark, horrible tales they must tell."

A shiver runs up Libby's spine, tickling the back of her head. She doesn't dare break her gaze from the harpy.

"I have seen eyes like yours before." She continues. "They belong to that of ancient beings long forgotten. Now there's a race – a species of _true_ beauty. Might I ask, what your relation is to them –?"

A sudden ear-ringing screech nearly causes everyone to jolt. All heads turn towards the darkness as two harpies are accompanied by a third, each carrying a scrawny, darkened thing.

Her fear and anger are growing towards their peak to where she will soon draw her sword. She was surprised and curious as to why the Companions didn't just attack the creatures straight away, but now, she knew that plundering head long in would've been foolish. With the caves being dark and the light nearly gone, the harpies would be at the advantage, and who's to say how many more are hidden away in the belly of the cave.

Someone strikes a flint, and each of the harpies hiss, but it's out of annoyance as they shield their eyes until they adjust. The three harpies approach, dragging limbs and disturbingly thin bodies.

Libby's knees quake as he beholds what was the three children. She can't even tell who was who.

One of them was nothing more than a pile of bones, white as ivory and picked completely clean. Not even a hint of red left on them. The second girl, she was severely gaunt and inhuman. Her now white flesh was sunk deep into her cheeks to reveal the contours of her skull, her lips shriveled back to expose her yellowed teeth. Her nose has dissolved into a hole while her eyes, hollow, are sunken pits lit by the remaining white, looking like nothing more than a pinprick of light.

And the third girl, she was nothing more than a skeleton with skin stretched tightly over her. Her skin milky white, and her shoulders are racklike and her hair is scraggly, stringy clumps. More ghoul now than human.

This time Diamond can't hide her disgust, her shock and her horror. She dares to take a couple steps towards the girls, the leader harpy stepping aside. She can feel the members shift behind her, eyeing her carefully.

As her ears note every sound this way and that, she takes the girl's limp hand in her own, her skeletal fingers make her knuckles bigger than the actual digit.

And then there's a twitch. Diamond's eyes widen. The harpies didn't expect it either, as she can see them gaze at the body out of her peripherals. Taking her pointer finger and thumb, Diamond takes the middle finger of the body and squeezes it. The twitch happens again, and this time it ripples through the hand, each finger shaking, struggling to lift themselves.

Diamond can feel the leader's eyes upon her, and that one with needle teeth come closer to her. There's a snarl from one of the twins. The feeling of unease grows in the pit of her stomach.

Diamond takes the girl's chin, as gently as she dares and carefully lifts her head to face her own. Her eyes are closed, but Diamond can see movement behind them. It looks as if it's taking all of her strength just to open her eyes. Before Diaomnd can lift the lids with her thumb, they slowly open themselves, and they reveal a pair of stunning baby blue eyes.

They slowly blink a couple times, and she can see the blackness of the pupil shrink before expanding. Her eyes then shift, in a way. They look as if they're trying to widen with surprise and awe, but Diamond isn't sure.

Either way, she's ready to behead all of these harpies.

The girl's mouth part, and her throat bobs slightly, trying to speak or make even the slightest noise. But Diamond simply purses her lips, shushing the girl. The girl closes her mouth and Diamond slowly lowers her head.

"What did you do?" Libby asks as she glances over Diamond's shoulder, well aware of the approaching harpy.

The lead harpy's smile gone, she blinks at Libby, angling her chin. "We do what any predator would do when a youngling wanders into their territory."

"Normal predators would simply eat them and be done with it."

"But we're not normal." The harpy snaps, and then Vilkas is the first to set his hand on his broadsword.

"That's obvious. What did you do? Drain their life force? I had no idea you, ladies, were still dappling in your lost arts." Libby says, with the tension slowly building, she doesn't bother hiding her snarl.

"We've done no such thing, I can assure you." The lead harpy says, returning the snarl. "You think it is an easy task trying to mimic our rituals with these retched hands? No! We merely treated them with regular starvation."

Libby takes a daring step towards the harpy. "We're taking her home." she demands.

The lead harpy doesn't say anything. She merely glares at Libby, her teeth bared in hatred. She then says, "Did you really think it would be that easy? That you would just state it and I would obey?"

Libby daringly leans in and grins. "I don't want it to be easy." She says raspy.

Before she can react, Libby shoves the lead harpy forward before whirling around and unsheathing her ebony sword. There the blade slices clean through another, smaller harpy who was pouncing towards Libby. Her blade cuts the creature at a diagonal, and green blood splatters on her armor and drips thickly down the steel of the sword.

As Diamond dives for the girl, she sees the light of the flare go over her head and land deeper in the cave, illuminating more and more of the winged atrocities like bats. When Diamond slices the throat of the harpy holding the barely-alive girl, the two beside it are tackled by the twins in their wolf form.

The harpies hiss and scatter from the walls, their screams and howls echoed like firecrackers. The cave becomes a riot of blood and feathers and skin flying everywhere.

Diamond scoops the girl in her arms and heads for the entrance. Libby's mouth utter arcane words and aims her hand towards the blackness of the cave and out shoots a bright ball of light that lands in the halfway point, illuminating it far better.

Soon Libby is slicing and slashing anything who flies past her. When one harpy with rotted-green wings crashes into Vilkas, sending him rolling falling off the edge of the cliff, a clipped cry escapes from Diamond, but then she sees a dark furry hand dig its nails into the rock, hoisting up and roaring at the creatures.

Keeping the girl in her arms, Diamond drops to one knee and shields the girl with her body. She grabs her cape and uses it as extra protection as she watches the majority of the harpies fly out of the cave, flowing forth like a flock of bats against the now pink sky. As they swell and churn, Diamond stands and looks around. Libby lands a few feet away from her, skillfully spins her daggers before whipping them at two more of the winged-monstrosities. The blades slice the creatures cleanly in half. They drop to the floor, their green blood pooling together.

"Farkas!" Diamond shouts. The now- werewolf Companion whirls and swipes out another one before shaking out his claws and turning to Diamond. The blonde shoves the girl into his arms. "Get her out of here. See if you can find a healer to restore her. We'll handle the harpies."

Libby pushes off a harpy with dirtied pink wings and fries her with a blast of fire from his staff.

Farkas simply nods his head and grunts. Hopefully he'll have the sense to shift back before reaching town.

He hurries for the cliff edge and leaps off, digging his claws into the rock. Sparks fly as she slides down, holding the girl securely.

Diamond spins her warhammer in her hands as she joins Libby and Vilkas.

Vilkas leaps up and latches his jaw down on the ankle of harpy while his claws mauls the face of another. Libby is using some wicked looking daggers, completely covered and dripping with green blood. Already the ground is covered with a thick puddle of the creatures' blood.

Diamond sprints past Vilkas and brings her hammer forward. She immediately slices off the arm of a harpy and cuts the creature from neck to navel in the same motion.

Libby crosses her arms in and X, blocking a harpy chomping for her face. She pushes off and stabs her dagger down the creature's throat, the other driving into the creature's sternum. As the blood splashes on her in a warm coat, as she listens to the sound of bones cracking and flesh sloshing apart, she can't help but smile. In times like this, it's just a smorgasbord of fun.

The next harpy that dives for her, teeth bared and claws ready, Libby drops to a crouch and spins upwards slicing through its middle. She spins out of the way of another and slices two oncoming more, one in the stomach and lopping off one's head. Remembering her rope, she shrugs it off, ties it into a lasso and spins the rope for a few seconds and hooks it around the neck of a harpy. She swings the harpy in a circle and into two more still emerging from the cave. They hit the ground unconscious.

The deeper she gets into the cave, the ceiling grows higher. So Libby pushes off her feet as another one of the avian creatures dive-bombs for her and Libby lands on top of it, smashing her foot through its skull and splaying its brains along the wall.

Diamond slices off the arm of another harpy, kicking another to the side then plummeting the blade into its chest and using their momentum to spin and kick the creature to the ground. With the light left by that brief spell, the shadows of the creatures double, but Libby's blade still finds its home in flesh.

Everyone knew that they couldn't eliminate the entire hive of the creatures, just dwindle their numbers and distract them enough until they knew that Farkas has safely left the area with the girl. Really, all the girls had to do was enjoy themselves and the carnage. They can feel scratches forming on their cheeks and kinking against their armor, but all it does is reverberate through their bones adding fuel to the fire that is burning excitingly inside of them.

Vilkas sprint past the girls into the belly of the cave, and neither have any desire to follow him. Really all of the excitement was in here. Down there they were probably just inspecting more to see if they had any other prisoners. Diamond punches another harpy square in the face and hops running on it and flipping off and slicing the head of her hammer through another.

She is soaked with blood by now, is stains her face, her armor, her clothes. She can feel it seeping into her hair and practically dripping from her armor. She sprints towards the entrance as she sees the main flock coming back towards the cave.

She sees Libby painted in the green blood like her, but not as much.

"Diamond!" Libby screams and the Companion looks over her shoulder and ducks in time as the assassin chops off the head of a purple-winged harpy was about to sink her teeth into Diamond's neck. When Libby hoists Diamond to her feet, the Companion can't help but smile as Libby's eyes widen at the blood that steams down Diamond's chin and dripping off her chin.

Without much word, Libby dives back into the mouth of the cave, pulling out her other sword. She wants to dirty the blade as much as the other is.

But as she goes to slice, she's suddenly tackled from the side. Rolling through the puddle of green blood, the substance now nearly completely covering her head and shoulders, she finds herself pinned by the lead harpy, her black eyes wild with fury. She hisses and brings her clawed talons up. Libby brings her swords up and blocks the harpy's swipe and hugs her ankles around the creature's neck and flings her off. Pushing herself to her feet, Libby cringes slightly, her neck retracting into her shoulders as she feels the blood seep past the black jumpsuit under her armor pieces and slowly starts to trial down her spine.

The lead harpy pushes to her feet, her feathers tainted with the blood. She grins at Libby and charges forward, spaying her arms behind her ready to swipe. Libby sheathes one sword and grips the other. With most of the harpies are outside now, the two of them dance in the blood that now floods the cave. Her claws clang against Libby's blade and Libby's armored gauntlets whenever she went for the assassin's face. She smacks it aside and managed to swipe her claws against Libby's breastplate. Hard enough that sparks fly and white streaks are left behind. Libby bolts for the harpy and after their weapons clash again, Libby kicks out her talon feet and spins, kicking her in the stomach.

When the creature hits the ground, Libby pins her there, straggling the creature with her legs and stabs her swords into the ground so that the blades form an X against the harpy's skin. One simply move and she will slice her own throat.

"Your head might look good on my wall. Or maybe I can sell it to some scholar for a good price." Libby says with a deadly grin.

But as she's about to behead the wicked thing, a sudden commotion makes her look up to the cave entrance. There she finds Diamond swatting against the harpies who circle around the mouth. Behind her, Vilkas is coming up and there are brief flashes of light and he is in his mortal form, his armor relatively clean compared to the girls.

Then she hears Diamond shout, and Libby sees a harpy fly past her, knocking the Companion to the ground. Diamond rolls on her sides and manages to push herself to one knee, but then another one smacks into her and she's sent rolling again over the cliff's ledge. Libby freezes, her breath catching as Diamond scrapes her hands and blades against the stone to catch hold.

Her dagger manages to snag, but she's so close to the edge. And without a nearby ledge or a branch to grasp, she has nowhere to go but down. A simple slipping of the foot, and she'd fall.

"Diamond." Libby nearly whimpers.

Diamond pushes herself up and manages to duck as one harpy tries to smack at her from behind, but two more come swooping past her one way and then another. Her foot scrapes against stone. Diamond still slices at the creatures, but she doesn't have enough time to move away from the ledge, and the harpies know this.

Libby feels her heart lodge in her throat.

There's the sound of claws shrieking against metal and a boot scraping against stone.

Then, there's Diamond's cry of fear and horror and Libby watches as a harpy swipes past her and Diamond fumbles over the edge of the cliff.

"Diamond!" Libby screams before she can control herself.

She leaves behind her bloodied blades and somehow manages to find her rope in the toe-deep puddles of blood. The entire thing is now dyed green, but Libby doesn't allow herself to focus on the smell.

A harpy with yellow wings that hovers in front of the entrance only has time to screech as Libby slams onto the creature's head, gripping its horns and twists. She hears the bones in its neck pop and its body slouches.

Libby ties one end of the rope to a thick branch an arm's length away from the cave's entrance. She ties the other end around her waist. It's long enough – and strong enough.

Sprinting down the long protruding stone, Libby launches herself over the edge.


	31. Chapter 30

**~Good afternoon everyone. If you want a good idea of the piece Libby plays, it's inspired by the piece Hungarian Rhapsody by Franz Liszt. Look for the song played by Valentina Lisitsa. Thank you, and enjoy the chapter. Kesharocks. Xxx~**

* * *

Wind tears at Libby's face. She could swear she feels the skin around her cuts ripping further, but she keeps her focus on Diamond, falling so fast, so far from her outstretched hands. The minute Libby jumped off the cliff, she can feel the muscles behind her eyes flex and something in her eyes shift, shielding her vision from the wind.

Libby straightens herself like an arrow, pressing her arms at her sides and pointing her toes. She immediately gains speed towards Diamond. And there she is, just a hand's breadth from Libby's fingers, her sapphire eyes wide, her arms flailing as if she could turn them into wings.

Pushing herself further, Libby has her arm around Diamond's middle in a heartbeat. She slams into the Companion so hard that the breath is knocked from Libby's chest. Together, they plummet like a stone, down, down, down, the wind becoming defeating to the point that Libby doesn't think she'll be able to hear afterwards.

Diamond grabs the rope, and Libby nearly feels her stomach heave up into her throat as the rope goes taut, tightening around her middle. The impact is blinding, and when Libby opens her mouth to grunt at the pain, she expects her stomach to go flying out. She holds onto Diamond with every ounce of nerve and strength she has, willing her arms to not let go. Never let go.

The rope sends them swinging towards the wall and Libby buries her head in Diamond's armored shoulder. She feels Diamond turn and her back slams into the stone, the impact busting through Libby's side and shoulder. She still holds tight to Diamond, focusing on her arms, on her too-shallow breathing and making sure she doesn't vomit over Diamond's shoulder.

They hang there, flat against the wall. Libby is panting as she looks at the ground sixty feet below. Diamond rotates them and plants her feet against the stone wall, her one arm holding the rope tight. Thank the gods it didn't snap.

"Libby." Diamond says, gasping for breath. She presses her face onto Libby's hair. "Gods, above." Diamond adjusts her legs so that they support Libby's, which have gone limp, and her free arm finally wraps around Libby, the warmth of her palm between her shoulder blades makes the assassin loosen her muscles, if only slightly.

Lifting her head, Libby dares herself to look at Diamond's, and the Companion's eyes blink and widen at the sight of the filmy look of Libby's eyes, but when Libby blinks, something retracts and revealing her emerald eyes. They can't stop here. They need to climb back up, despite an overwhelming want to just let the twins carry each of them back up to the cliff. Libby clenches her jaw. When her arms move, it feels like they're not even her, like she's been disconnected from herself. Shaking, numb, Libby's skin stings as she slides her feet along the cracks to find solid footing. Her skin is raw and bleeding, but she can't remember how, unless it was an injury from one of the harpies and she didn't notice. Carefully, carefully, she starts to pull herself up.

"Thanks." Diamond breathes.

"Don't mention it." When the rope tug at her torso two times and she looks up to find Vilkas looking over the edge. His cheers are swept up by the wind.

Relief floods her at the thought of not having to do anymore work, and so she adjusts herself and Diamond follows along without a word. Diamond jolts, Libby's arm keeping her in place as she feels Libby's hands untie the tainted rope and quickly loosen it.

More relief and relaxation even floods into Libby's stomach, despite still feeling it turning over and over and over. With one hand, Diamond watches as Libby makes a double knot in the rope and gives it two tugs. Slowly, ever so slowly, they are pulled up the wall.

Diamond doesn't say anything as she puts his fully body weight onto Libby who scales the rock wall with Vilkas carefully pulling the rope.

When they make it to the cliff, Diamond still doesn't move even when she feels Vilkas' strong hands gently grab her by an arm and around her side, and she feels solid rock beneath her. Her eyes are still closed tightly, her arms are still coiled around Libby, despite the snickers from Vilkas. Diamond can feel Libby shift in her grip and it isn't until she says Diamond's name does the Companion blink her eyes open. "Diamond."

There she finds Diamond's deep emerald eyes staring at her, the assassin is propped up on her elbows, her hand still on Diamond's ribs. Still feeling numb, Diamond flicks her eyes around and pushes herself up on her hands and knees. "You good?" she asks Diamond.

"Yeah, thanks." Diamond says.

Pushing to her feet, the world tilts and Diamond tumbles into Vilkas, who catches her with a tentative laugh. He steadies Diamond and Libby gathers her swords. She sheathes the blades, the blood now dry and chipping off the steel.

It is then does Libby look towards the entrance of the cave and finds green blood pooling from the mouth and streaming over the opposite edge of the cliff. Taking steps towards the entrance, her feet splashing in the thick puddle of blood, Libby peers inside and finds the lead harpy dead, her head chopped off and hideously mauled. Libby shudders at the thought of Vilkas being responsible.

Vilkas comes up next to Diamond and smiles. "Ready to go home?"

Diamond looks to him with terrified eyes at the thought of having to climb all the way back down the wall. At this Vilkas chuckles, and Diamond almost smacks him heavily in the face.

"Don't worry, we're not climbing down."

"Then how will we get home?" she asks, needing to clear her throat.

"I have a portal spell that I picked up from a scholar at the College of Winterhold." Vilkas says.

"A Nord dealing with magic? Bit of risk don't you think?" Libby asks, folding her arms. "Do you even know how to use that?"

"I've dabbled enough to obtain the appropriate knowledge." Vilkas says.

"I'll take my chances with the rock wall. I don't want to end up splattering on the plains of Oblivion."

"I'd rather not wager right now. Let's just take the fastest way and go, because I do _not_ want this smell staining my clothes." Diamond says, her nose picking up the odor of the blood.

"As if we don't already." Libby says. She is are already cleaning her weapons and picking the dried blood off of her face. "How about I draw the marks."

"You don't trust me?"

"No." Libby answers. "I've studied many more years than you, and I'm more than capable of handling this kind of spell."

"What's so difficult about it?" Vilkas asks.

"I'm not insulting your intelligence, it's just with the social standing that Nords have against magic." She holds out her hand. "Let me do the marks. Please."

Vilkas takes out the scroll and looks to it before looking to Libby. And then he sighs and hands her the scroll.

Smart man.

If she had to admit, Diamond trusted Libby with magic more than Vilkas. Diamond even remembers countless times when Libby healed her with spells and incantation, as well as working around magic trap spells. She once told Diamond she wanted to be a healer before she inherited her father's profession.

"Are we waiting for Farkas?" Diamond then asks.

"Not like we'll be able to see him down there from this height." Vilkas says.

Diamond doesn't bother wiping the dry blood from her face, at least until it starts to itch. She sits against the stone, watching as Libby draws some of those magic marks in the blood. Vilkas hovering over her shoulder.

Not that she dipped her fingers into the blood and started tracing them onto the stone – no, she draws the marks _in_ the puddle of green blood. And the blood doesn't recede back or swallows the markings, they actually stay there as Libby traces mark after mark in a perfect circle and just as she finishes connecting the last mark, the entire thing starts to glow a starlight blue.

She looks into the portal and nods her head. She turns to the other warriors. "Hold your breath when you jump." Vilkas nods and Diamond simply stares at her.

Vilkas is the first to step forward and approach the portal. He doesn't question Libby, crosses his arms and dives into the portal as straight as a pencil. There's no sound for a few seconds and then there's the sound of splashing water.

Diamond carefully rises to her feet. Libby looks up to her. "You okay?" she asks. "Do you want to go together?"

Instinctively, Diamond is prepping to bite back with harsh words, as she thinks it is Libby's way of insulting her for acting so cowardly, even after saving her. But it's not a form of mockery, it's not a form of pity. Merely an invitation. For some reason, after witnessing Libby saving her life, falling off the cliff, feeling herself plummet towards the earth, it stirs something within Diamond that she hadn't felt for a long time, or hadn't _allowed_ herself to feel: Fear.

But what was she scared of? Or even scared for?

She'll have to save it for the ride home. But right now, the thought of having to plummet once more – alone – is a little more than knee-quaking. So with hesitation, Diamond steps up to the portal and holds out her hand Libby takes it.

Libby and Diamond grasp hands and they jump down into the portal.

Diamond doesn't dare open her eyes in fear that they'll pop out of her head or something. Libby didn't say when to hold their breath, so Diamond just held it at the very start. She doesn't dare try to inhale.

Just as she is reaching her limit, suddenly she is swallowed up by water, the coldness grasping her with its icy fingers. Immediately she feels Libby's hand, still grasping hers, pulling her upwards. Diamond briefly enjoys the momentary pain and relief that fills her hands as the cold water seeps into the cuts on her hands and face.

They break the surface in a bursting gleam of water, the sun turning them into little diamonds in the now darkening sky. The deep blue of the night has now been cast over the little river. Diamond gasps heavily for air, coughing a little as she swallows some of the river water. At least it's clean. She feels Libby's hand drop her and Diamond starts to slosh around in the water.

Libby starts to scoop up the water and wash her face. She makes sure to try and get some water down her back where she knows that the blood of the harpies had permeated her uniform.

There's the sound of splashing all around them as Libby plunges herself under the water again and lets it seep into every nook and crevice and cut she has in her armor and on her body. Surfacing once again, Libby sighs and splashes her face once again. Then she trudges her way towards the shore, the water sloshing heavily.

Everyone but Farkas are dripping wet, not even bothering to dry off their clothes. They're mostly just cleaning off their weapons, and when Libby looks to her blades, they could use some scrubbing, though the water has already loosened the dried blood on the blades, leaving patches that look like liver spots on an elder.

"Libby." Farkas calls, and she looks up to find the Companion waiting for her with the horses. "Ready to head back?"

Looking back up to the cliff, Libby can see small streams of the blood starting to drip over the cliff of the Caves of the Harpy Clan. The rest of them must've scattered to a different cave for the time being. So long another one doesn't come swooping down on them, Libby is more than happy to leave. She nods and hurries out of the water.

"Yeah." She says.

"Wow," Vilkas chuckles. "We eliminated an entire clan of those wretched creatures, and we can still be home in time for dinner."

Mounting their horses, the four of them run back towards the small town to check on the parents of the surviving girl. Farkas reports that the healer was able to restore some of the girl's life essence, but only to the point where she can be kept alive. She was returned to her family who will take her to a healer's hut for a checkup there. But the healer assured that they merely needed to feed her and have her exercise.

Libby wasn't too happy to hear the father threaten to thrash the girl within an inch of her life, but he said it while in tears and still taking into consideration that she will be living with her guilt for the rest of her life. She will always be haunted by what she had witnessed in the Caves of the Harpies. While the wife suggested they take her back to Falkreath, The Companions left after compromising that the parents might think about it once their daughter is back in health.

The run back to the Whiterun wasn't bad, what with Libby's mind being distracted enough by what the lead Harpy had said, while constantly keeping an eye on Diamond's hair as they sprinted.

_It's your _true_ scent that will always betray you_.

While only the elves and mystics of the fae can follow scents like dogs, something about it doesn't sit right with Libby. Something about that harpy she knew what Libby was hiding. The assassin gets shivers at how the harpy talked about her eyes, and her smell and such.

Cryptic as it may be, Libby is still shaken at what the harpy might've figured out from her scent alone.

Sooner than she would have liked, The Companions arrive back at Whiterun. And this time, the horses weren't as winded as they were on the way there. Libby barely said a word as they depart their horses to the stable boys, and headed up to Jorrvaskr, nodding at guards who bow their heads in respect. Libby looks over her shoulder to make sure the stable boys were returning her horses.

They meet back up with Kodlak and after Maleek had delivered the news, they was dismissed with promise of an incredibly large salary to be delivered to each of their chambers. After they had left the living quarters, Libby nonchalantly laces her hand with Farkas', the Companion not saying anything but Libby can sense his surprise.

"Are you alright?" Farkas leans in, asking close to her ear. "Vilkas told me about you and Diamond."

"My stomach still twists at the thought."

"You're braver than you look." He says with a nudge of his elbow. Libby nudges back and smiles.

"I hope she's okay. Diamond just _hates_ heights."

"Yeah, I know. We had purposely thought of a trial that would help her get over her fear. And in a way, I guess it did. But the effects don't last forever."

"She's certainly better than when I was with her." Libby smiles. "She refused to even climb up Mistveil Keep with me. But she did climb the Gildergreen the last time we were together in Whiterun."

Farkas chuckles. "Where are we going?"

"Back to the mansion. I was hoping that we could spend time before I go back off to Dragonsreach."

"Sure. Maybe you could play the piano for me some more." Libby giggles, lacing her arms with Farkas'. "You act as if I'm joking."

"Maybe." Libby shrugs.

"I'm assuming hearing your playing is hard to come by."

"It's something more personal for me. I'll tell you more when we get there. It's not really something I like to talk about publically."

They make it back to Libby's mansion, and Farkas followed Libby up the steps and through the hallway towards her music room – which by his opinion is far more impressive than the Jarl's. He goes and sits on the comfy couch as if that's always been his spot, as Libby approaches he grand black piano, lifting back the cover.

"My parents first started having me play when I was very young, and at least it was all willing. I loved the sound of music." Libby says as she sits down at the bench, her hand delicately lifting and tapping one single note in the middle spectrum, then a chord further down. "When I was younger, my father always talked about how I would constantly be down by the musicians, watching them play their instruments. Both were worried I'd be a bother."

Her fingers gently touch the keys further down, the notes and flats already informing Farkas this piece speaks of happiness but dwindles in rays of darkness. He sits, watching the assassin at profile. And slowly, he watches her unravel herself before the piano.

"Then after their departure, Zusa kept me up on my lessons, she even wanted me to play for her many a times." Libby's fingers effortlessly glide across the keys, her hands seemingly having a mind of their own. She must've memorized this song, the notes she plays – flawless. "It was quite the battle. After losing both my parents, I didn't even want to go near another piano. It almost meant nothing if they weren't around to hear it. They claimed I always had a raw talent."

Her fingers trial up and down the keys in an allegro and after hammering at two notes, they ride up and down again until she's back in the lower spectrum of the keys. Now the tune seeps darkness and anger, regret, but still brimmed with passion by how she presses the keys. Then through a trickle of notes, she's in the higher spectrum, and suddenly the tune is very welcoming and gentle.

"Sometimes when I play, it's like I'm back home; sitting in the living room and they're listening to me play while mom reads a book and dad reads over some papers." Libby coos. "Music is my way of connecting back to them. It both hurts and heals me. It's the only thing that makes me feel . . . normal."

Farkas says nothing. He doesn't even bother to get up from his seat. He wanted to give her this moment. He could practically see Libby traveling deep within herself: her eyes closed, a pained expression on her face and the way her hands glide over the keys without a single mishap.

Hearing what she said, saying he was flattered would be a complete understatement for what he felt. It honored him and irked him how Libby was so personal with only him. If only the other Companions saw her like this, then they'd see the true kind of person she is.

So Farkas simply lets her music infect him before his time with her closed.

Hours after Farkas departed for Jorrvaskr, Libby went to Dragonsreach and immediately started talking with the princess about what had happened with the Clan of Harpies. Thanks to Diamond, Libby was more than excited and willing to teach the princess about Skyrim's language and writing. After cutting their lesion short in favor for a walk around the castle's inner garden, they returned for dinner and quickly departed to bed. Nassari has since been moved to a room closer to another room higher up in the castle, and lined with a secret tunnel leading towards the outside.

While the princes sleeps soundly now, curled into her covers with her braided hair fanning around her head, Libby sits on the ledge of the bay window adjacent to the bed. Dressed in her nightingale uniform she blends in with even the slightest shadows. Her hood is over her head, her cape wrapped around her to keep out the chill from the crevice of the window. She spins a dagger slowly between her fingers, her sparkling eyes watching the princess and checking the surrounding sections of the room.

She's been this way for at least four hours, but it seems shortened with her beating heart. She shifted at every sound, she eyed down every shadow, and constantly kept opening and closing the windows to check for someone climbing the walls. She had to make it brief as she didn't want the chill reaching the princess.

As soon as the clock strikes four, she will retire to bed with the princess. Strictly for the reason being that Nassari's bed looks much more comfortable than the wooden seat by the window. Even the fire has given up for the night.

Libby turns her head towards the window, disappointed at seeing how much of Whiterun has become exposed once more since the snow has melted. While the girls were talking in the private greenhouse, Nassari had brought up the reason why she was attacked was because the Stormcloaks thought she was conspiring with Erelia Glendeylin. Libby had already picked up that much form the Bannared Mare, but what surprised her more was that Nassari wasn't, but wishes she was. The way she spoke of Erelia, it tugged at Libby's heart.

Nassari had such a love for the lost queen; such an admiration and yet she hasn't even met the elf. The spark of excitement in her eyes, she way her face lit up upon mentioning Erelia, it made Libby almost giggle, and yet she could feel jealousy writhing at how much the princess seemed to love Erelia.

The two of them, they would've made a great movement towards Nords and the Imperials. Both would've been forces to be reckoned with. Nassari and Erelia would have led Skyrim to freedom. Together the princess and the queen could have defeated Ulfric and his Stormcloaks, and perhaps unchained the Empire from the Thalmor. Those wretched elves would've and should've bowed before Erelia. They deserved to be buried along with their pathetic ego.

Libby just wanted to rip their ears off, shove them down their throats, cut off their hands to forbid them from using magic –!

But no – that's not what Erelia would've done. Erelia would've spared them, and simply drive them out of Skyrim. Or at least, the ones who dared to follow the Dominion. Erelia would never turn to such genocidal routes. That would've made her no different than the Nords when they eliminated the Snow Elves into fits of legend and myth.

No, that's not what Erelia would've done.

But Libby wasn't Erelia. She could never be Erelia. Not when someone like her was so loved and admired, and here Libby is – practically drowning herself in lies just to keep her life together.

Libby clenches the hilt of her dagger in her palm, gritting her teeth.

Erelia was simply something of rumors, and the people loved her. They _adored_ her even when they haven't seen her face. Even when her supposed "rebel groups" haven't even made an attempt to put a dent against the Nords. She was a gods-dammed figurehead, and the people _loved_ her for it.

The clock tucked in the corner chimes, and Libby jerks her head, ready to throw her dagger. The clock reads four in the morning.

Libby sighs and shifts from the window. She pulls off her hood and cape, removing her armor and changing into the clothes that Nassari left out for her. Libby carefully hides her armor within the princess's wardrobe and carefully climbs into bed to make sure not to disturb her. Quickly, the assassin is asleep.

* * *

There was blood everywhere.

It infected her nose and tainted the fabric of her black leather armor. It pooled in a puddle in front of her, spreading out from beneath the corpse of her father. His face was down, curtained by his black hood, one arm stretched out while the other cupped to his sternum.

Her father's skin looked lighter than normal.

"Daddy–?" she whimpered. Knelt before her, she reached out her quivering hands to her father's shoulder. It was ice cold. She rocked her father. "Daddy, get up." She whispered, her throat tightening with a sob.

She might've been young, but her parents had educated her enough about death to know when certain things happened: skin grows cold, a certain amount of blood is lost, the slowing of the pulse – then it is already too late.

But she didn't want to believe that it was too late for her father. Her mother specialized Libby in healing and spells and incantations; she could help him. He could survive. He _would_ survive.

She began shaking her father roughly. "Daddy, get up!" she screamed. "Get up! _Get up, daddy_!"

She started to shake her father violently at that point. The body simply rocked back and forth, like the little cradle that her mother would place her in. Then she pushed hard enough that her father's body rolled over on his back, exposing the large cut across his belly. Nausea tightly clenched her stomach.

Her father's body was mutilated: his intestines were pouring out of him, barely contained by his hand. It painted her father uniform dark, it leaked from his nose and the corner of his mouth.

There was blood everywhere.

This was not happening. It couldn't be happening. It couldn't be.

"Daddy!" she howled. Thunder clapped from outside, rattling the foundation of the Nord ruins she and her father went to meet _him_. The dome above them cracked and popped the iron bars groaning in the outside from the fierce wind, the snow driving down in thick sheets, making impossible to even see. "Daddy, please." She begged.

Lightning flashed, revealing more stab wounds in her father's stomach and around his chest. There was a long gash over his heart, the wound deep enough show muscle tissue. Footsteps sounded from behind the closed door of the room. She whirled, fear clenching her heart and lungs, and for a moment, she forgets how to breathe.

"Sweetheart," a raspy voice spoke. She looked to her father and found his head tilted, eyes open, but milky white. The warm, chocolate brown hue they once held was gone, distant. She gripped her father's icy hand, tears spilling down her cheeks. Her father spoke in the Ancient Tongue of their people, speaking the precious name he'd given her since birth. "You must leave." he rasped, coughing up spits of blood and having it dribble along his chin.

Leaning over her nearly-dead father, she held tight to his hand. She shook her head, so much that strands of her hair loosened from her braid. The blood had seeped into the moonlit stone and permeated some of the grass blooming from the crevices.

"You must," her father urged, gripping her stained hands tightly. "You will take my horse and run. Run like wind and never look back. No matter what you see, no matter what you hear, do_ not look back_." More blood spilled from his lips. Her father released her hand and reached to his neck. There, he yanked off the one necklace that was not ruined in red, and held it out to her, shaking.

She stared at the amulet, the amulet her mother always wore. The amulet that she was told had been passed down from generation after generation. It was in the shape of a golden sun, with the center being a polished opal gemstone in the center. She knew every inch of the amulet, had run her fingers over it countless times and memorized the shape of the symbols etched into the back – words in a strange language that she could never remember.

"Take it, Libitania. And keep it close, it will protect you." Her father coughed.

The footsteps got louder and her father struggled to push himself up on his hands and knees. She offered to help, but her father merely lashed out his hand, and large rocks from the wall sprung forward, toppling to the floor. She yelped as pebbles and dust spilt forward, the foundation of the ruins shaking. Behind it was a secret passage.

"Go, my daughter." Her father whispered. He held his stomach and spilling intestines. She wanted to approach her father, to help him. She had learned enough from her mother that she could heal his wounds, enough to get him to his feet. But something was holding her back. "Remember: be brave, hold onto your courage, and never surrender."

Clutching the amulet in her tiny hands, she stared at her father. Her body was numb, but she found her feet suddenly moving.

She looked and found herself heading in the direction of the passageway, the darkness enveloping the stone, looking like the abyss to hell. She tried to stop, but she couldn't.

"Daddy!" she cried. When she turned her head, she found her father's eyes glowing a sharp, icy blue. Little tendrils of fog floated out from their corners. Her father looked to the door as another bang sounded. It was closer.

What was he doing? She couldn't just leave her father like this! Despite all of it, in her mind, she knew why her father was forcing her, but she didn't want to go. She couldn't leave him. She can't afford to lose both her parents!

"Daddy!" she screamed. Her father's shaking his head, the blue of his glowing eyes numbing her to her core.

Another loud bang. The heavy footsteps approaching. Coming closer.

The shadow of the tunnel crawled over her, a tingle running up her spine as she felt like she was walking into the mouth of a monster. Once she was five steps down, her father still in sight, the glow from his eyes dissipated. A sad smile spread across her father's cracked lips.

"Be brave." he whispered.

In a flash of white light and a gust of wind, the stones were back against the wall. It slammed so hard and loudly that the tunnelway shook. The stones rattled, releasing little spits of dust and dirt. Her heart stopped. She was swallowed by darkness.

Immediately she launched herself forward, her shoulder ramming into the back of the stones. She began pounding against it mercilessly, but it remained immobile and molded to the wall. She banged harder and harder, the amulet still clutched in her hands.

She pounded until her knuckles roared in pain and she fell to her knees. "Dad!" she bellowed.

Sobs wrecked her body. Tears spilled from her eyes. She could feel small vibrations from behind the shelf, and a deep feeling in her gut made her feel sick. There's another deep boom reverberating through the ruins, and the tunnel quivers.

Something in the back of her mind ordered her to move. She should move. Something was dangerously wrong.

A small flick of light drew her attention upwards, but she only saw endless black. She couldn't even see her hand in front of her face.

The flick happened again, and she peered down to find her mother's amulet glowing a soft pink. The stone's light grew brighter, and then faded away, brighter, then faded like it was breathing. A quick spark happened for a third time and this time, it bloomed into a small flame along the wall. She sniffed and looked to the wall where the flame twitched and swayed.

Her stained armor clung to her skinny legs, suddenly becoming freezing in the narrow tunnel of darkness. She pushed herself to her feet, her knees wobbling. She clumsily set the necklace around her throat, though it was difficult to keep her hands steady.

She took the three steps down towards the first sconce hanging on the wall, and then the moment the steps became darkness again, another flame bloomed to life on yet another sconce. She rubbed her thumb across the opal stone of her necklace and bounded down the steps. Her feet left red footprints on the stone and she kept one hand against the wall as she spiraled down. She didn't know where she was going, but the tower had to lead somewhere, possibly a fast form of escape. The sconces lit up for her every time, so she never missed a step.

There was no time to grab anything except for what she had on her. And that was only her iron dagger and her mother's amulet. The sprinted like hell down the steps. Soon a rounded black door came in sight, the rounded knocker vibrating against the lock.

She slammed her weight into the door, exploding through and nearly taking it off its hinges. Her feet carried her across the courtyard garden with all of her mother's ingredients. From where she was, the stables weren't far. Already she can hear the banging of her father's stallion just outside. She whinnied and huffed with urgency, her grey hair glistening.

Without needing to snap the reins, the horse took off in a full run.

She only ran with the horses when her mother was with her, that way there was some control. But the horse's speed whipped the breath out of her lungs. She dropped the reins instantly and grabbed the hair of the horse's mane instead.

The chilling winter wind bit at her cheeks, turning them red within seconds, and sent her teeth chattering so much they might've chipped. A huge explosion behind her nearly knocked her off the stallion. She looked back to see the remains of what was the ruins housing her father's body, now a living beacon of fire. Flames spouted from the opening at the top, and devoured the sides. The heat is so dense that the snow turned to steam before it could even reach the ruin.

Numbness spread through her limbs, locking them in place around the stallion. Another explosion devoured shook the ground, smoke erupting out of the mouth. That was where she had left her father.

She was forced to look away as the horse's body suddenly jolted and she found them barreling through the snow and trees. The horse ran as if the denizens of hell were on her heels. She didn't know where the horse was leading her, but as long as she got away.

She could feel the darkness creeping up on her. But something shifted and suddenly she could hear something like claws scraping against the ground.

Rows of trees and thick underbrush emerged on either side of her. The farther into the park she ran, the denser the surrounding forest grew. With no full moon tonight, they could disappear. The horse moved liked thunder and turned with the swiftness of lightning. Her eyes watered from the wind, her muscles aching from gripping so tight, but she didn't dare let go. The hoofbeats were so powerful, the pounded in her ears like war drums.

Branches and trees and twigs whipped at her face, scratching and clawing and smacking. Wind and the cold tearing at her face, numbing her cheeks. She pressed herself against the horse's neck, despite the constant movement it made. There's trickling down her cheek, and that horrid smell of crimson comes back, flooding with it the image of her father.

A deep, rumbling voice reverberated through the ground, through her bones.

It called her name.

Her spine tingled, her nerves prickled along her neck and arms, all hairs rose to stand on end. Angling her head ever so slightly, she peeked over her shoulder – and immediately wished she hadn't. Something out of an ancient god's nightmare was stalking them. It glided through the trees, smoothly like a wraith.

Beneath the curtain of snow, aided by the sheltered darkness, she was nothing but a shadow.

Suddenly, warmth rushed on either side of her and streams of fire shot up, creating a cresting wall. The horse came to a screeching halt, nearly flinging her off. She willed strength into her limbs to keep holding on. They were so stiff she worries they might become like water if she dares loosens them.

The flames rose higher, a large burnt tree branch crashed to the ground, sending up a shower of sparks. The stallion bucking back and neighing. She held on. Without needing to speak a word, the horse turned at an angle and started to run again. The fire seemed to follow them. The streams slithered through the trees, chasing after her like hounds. They leapt and dodged and hissed for her like snakes.

She could still feel that creature gliding after her. Darkness creeped in around her, spreading its fingers through the trees, working to smear them into a single black blur. Out of the corner of one eye, through the driving sheets of snow, she thought she saw the edge of a dark something. Then there was another at her left. Figures, tall and long, rushed _through_ the black gate of trees on either side of her, their movements too fast. Impossibly fast.

As she sped up, so do the dappled forms.

They seemed to multiply as, out of her periphery, she spotted yet another. This one glided away from the others to rush along the group of trees directly beside her. It moves through the trees, through undergrowth, dashing over the dry ground – a rippling form.

Overhead, the interlocking patchwork of hanging boughs worked to transform her pathway into a darkening tunnel. Through the lacework of limbs, thick clouds inched by.

There was a whoosh of wind and the fire was back, growing taller and taller on her sides. It stretched ahead of her, igniting her path. Slowly, ever so slowly, she watched the path narrow.

The fire . . . it was closing in on them. Closing in on her.

The horse gives a shrill cry of pain and suddenly she was flung forward. The horse was yanked out from under her. She slammed into the unforgiving earth, pain crackling through her left cheek and a burning along her arms and legs. Her feet spastically scrambled and she moved onto her hands to see her horse. Her father's horse –

The creature of black had it by the hind leg, dangling it above the ground. It whinnied and thrashed, bearing its teeth, unimaginable fear in its eyes. She scrambled back, her legs burning and bleeding, into a small cover of foliage, but she knew that the creature could see her.

Everything about it was as if it was forged by midnight. There was no face, no features, just two pure white eyes and the shape of horns on its head. The lower half of its body was lost in tendrils of smoke. It turned its head, those white eyes boring into her soul.

Her stomach sank.

She then watched as the creature's other hand grabbed the other leg of the horse, and twisted. The sound of cracking bone was nothing compared to the wail of the stallion. Red pooled from where the muscle had been ripped, strings of veins and tissue dangling. Its mouth agape, its tongue slack. Its body turned and its eyes found hers, already glazed over with the far-seeing gaze of the dead.

Her father's horse – gone. Just like her parents –

In a flash, she was off the ground and half-stumbling, half-sprinting through the woods on her own. She could still hear the snap, crack and popping as the horse was ripped limb from limb. The smell of copper suffocated her.

The ground raced by beneath her bare, pounding feet, the chilled winter air stinging her lungs. As she ran, her body entered that uncomfortable place of being warm on the inside but cold with sweat on the outside. The snow made her limbs crawl with goose skin, and she couldn't keep her hands from trembling. Slowly, it washed away the red from her hands.

The creature called her name. Libby forced herself to run faster.

The hissing returned, and the snakes of fire were gliding across her, nipping at her heels. She barreled through the woods, the amulet a warm weight on her chest. Dizziness wafted in around her temples, but she wouldn't stop now.

Everything was burning. _Everything_. She swerved left and right, leaping over burning logs and skidding as she heard the cracking of branches. The fire nipped at her heels and turned the blanket of snow into dirtied puddles and slosh. The smoke made her nostrils and throat burn and dry as sandpaper. Her lungs felt as if they are being cooked, and each breath was soon sending agonizing pain through her.

The sound of her name whisked by her, caught by the wind and then lost in the rush of leaves scattering around her feet. A sword whined as it is drawn from its sheath. Closer, closer it came.

"_Libbyyy_."

Terror ripped a white-hot trail through her body, and she could barely breathe.

"Go away!" She finally screamed, her raw voice bellowing out of her throat. She can't outrun them.

A wave of air suddenly blew from the opposite direction. It broke past her, but she didn't feel its force. She only felt its effects as the heat of the fire briefly vanishes. Slowly, it started to gain on her again.

Where will she go? There's a distant roaring ahead of her – a break in the trees.

A clawed hand breached out of the blackness and went to swipe, she ducked low and launched herself forward. The branches and trees then opened up and the field exploded in darkened tones of brown, red, orange, and yellow.

She willed her body to keep moving in spite of her screaming muscles, the torturous ache in her lungs. She kept running, her breath the loudest sound in her ears. Her stomach felt ready to convulse all of her insides.

A sword whined as it was drawn from its sheath.

In one last attempt, she looked over her shoulder and opened her mouth. Her pain in her throat was agonizing, and she swore she tore her vocal chords as she shouted, "Leave me _alone_!"

The sky flashed, thunder rolled, and a knife of blue lightning sliced through the sky. It descended onto the fields, striking the wheat grass with a deafening clap.

Light burst around her, and the roar of a wall of blue ice drowned out the pounding and hissing of the demons . . . of him. Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see the ice sprout like spring daises and spread across the field, creating a wall of spikes. A cold breeze whipped through her hair and the heat of the flames were smothered instantly.

A break in the trees – the roar of the River Yorgrim growing overpowering. Her heart stopped. It's just like before, when she and her father ran after her mother –

Libby felt and heard the whoosh of his sword as he lifted it, ready to cleave her head with there.

There was a break from the ground, and all she saw was darkness below. Her feet planted themselves into the ground, snow gathering to her ankles. She clutches the amulet close to her chest, her hands shaking. She sees the darkness before she sees the red that belonged to his eyes.

Had she'd known it was the eyes that she would have to face for years to come, she never would've made the journey to Riften.

Her feet keep backing up until it slips against the ridge. She looks down, listening to the loose pebbles trickling down, tumbling into the ravine. There was no end to the darkness in that ravine. No end, and no beginning wither. It seemed to breathe, pulsing with whispers of faded memories, forgotten faces. It felt as though the darkness stared back at her – and the face it wore was her own.

She looked back as her skin crawled with gooseskin. He approached, raising his sword. She looked down to her shaking hand clutching the amulet.

She heard the whistle of the sword.

Libitania closed her eyes and prayed. Then turned and leapt off the edge of the cliff jut in time to hear the whoosh of the blade against her ear.

_I'm sorry_.

It was her only thought as she plummeted, so fast he had no time to scream before she hit the icy water and was pulled under.

And then, darkness. It ripples, and suddenly she's standing at the top of a grassy knoll, people are below her, alive and gleaming with pride in the green valley below her. Their faces are shadowed, everything is clear and bright. Yet she still feels as stiff and exhausted as she was running from _him_.

She looks down and in her hands is a bow. Her favorite weapon. Her only trusted weapon. Behind her the sun shined, and she felt a warm brush of air on her neck. It calmed her, but her stomach still felt sick, it still held the fear and uneasiness of the winter.

The bow glowed in her hands, and she heard the calm whisper of her name –

* * *

Libitania awoke in the darkness. Her body was sweaty and she was short of breath but all she did was breath through her nose. In and out, in and out. Her skin it tight with dried tears, but still more to come.

She studies the velvet canopy that hovers above the princess's bed. The faint shadows cast by the city lights in the distance. It is always the same dream, always this one night.

As if she could forget the day when everything she had loved had been wretched away from her, and she'd lost the only two people that had ever truly loved her.

Libby looks to her left and finds the princess facing her, still asleep. She reaches out her arm and runs it down the princess's arm. Nassari simply purrs, it almost makes Libby laugh.

She gets out of the bed, wiping her tears with the heels of her palm. She takes a few steps then pauses in the center of the room, staring into the dark. Only on this day does she distrust and is weary of the shadows.

A cold breeze tickles her left arm only and her entire body ripples with goose bumps. Her heart is still beating hard and she feels clammy. She turns to the princess as she turns in her bed.

She remains there for a moment, staring into the blackness without end.

Libby leaves Dragonsreach well before dawn.


	32. Chapter 31

Farkas makes his way up the stone steps towards Dragonsreach. Dressed in his usual armor, his only new addition is a thick leather cloak to help with the chilled wind today. He was supposed to meet up with Libby for lunch, but when she didn't show up, he first went up to her mansion; but Sazami had said that she wasn't home. Now he'll have to see if she's still guarding Princess Nassari.

He nods to the guards posted outside the doors and enters in. Libby had told him where Nassari's new rooms have been moved and so he takes the stairs and weaves through the hallways. He can't help the small smile as his excitement grows on spending the day with Libby.

His smile fades when he reaches the princess's chambers and finds only Nassari sitting at the small table in her foyer. He imagined to see Libby sprawled along the couch reading a book, but it's only the princess with a small plate of fruit in front of her.

Farkas bows. The princess nods her head, and says, "I'm afraid she's not here."

All doors of the princess's chambers are open wide enough that Farkas can see and hear that no one else is in the room. Besides, not like the princess would lie to him. "Where is she?"

Nassari's eyes soften, and she picks up a note that was lying among her table. "She has taken today off." She says, reading form the note before setting it down. "If I were to guess, I'd say that she is as far away from the city as she can get in half a day's ride."

"Why?"

Nassari smiles sadly. "Because today is the thirteenth anniversary of her parent's death."

Farkas' breath catches. He remembers Libby mentioning how her parents died on the same day, just two years apart from each other. She didn't tell him anything else, and he didn't dare to ask. He knew she'd been young, but he hadn't realized she'd been eight and ten. He can't even imagine losing _both_ parents on the same day. That kind of thing doesn't happen.

Farkas' stomach clenches. What kind of horrors had she witnessed that day?

Farkas runs a hand through his hair. "She told you about her parents in her note?" Maybe it holds a shred more information – anything for him to better understand what sort of woman he'd be facing when she returns, what sort of memories he'd have to contend with.

"No," Nassari says. "She told me in person, but they were vague descriptions. Possibly the same that she has told you. I didn't dare ask more." She watches him with a calculated stillness, a switch to the defensive that he recognized.

"Do you know when she'll be back?"

Nassari returns to the book in front of her. It looks like an English book set with Skyirm's alphabet. "She said she won't be back until after nightfall. If I were to guess, I'd say she didn't want to spend one moment of daylight in this city. In times such as this, solitude is best."

Even if Whiterun is an Imperial province, there's still a statue of Talos, a Nord, set at the center of the city. Farkas assumed her father was an Imperial, but he still has no idea of the heritage of her mother. She can't be a Nord; that was obvious.

What disturbs him the most, is remembering the story and whispers spreading about Cidhna Mines and how Libitania had left the bloodiest carnage on the day that she snapped.

And today is that day.

Farkas almost needs to sit down. He now understands why she snapped. Cidhna Mines was run by a Nord family, in a Nord supportive city. Of course on the anniversary of her parents' death would she rampage. With multitudes of Nords all around her, how could one not? Like a wolf in a henhouse.

Years of built up anger and grief and sorrow, emanating as a deadly monster, feral and wild.

Farkas thanks the princess with a bow and leaves the castle. He decides to head for Jorrvaskr for now, then at sunset he will go to her mansion and finish his wait there. Heading down the steps, Farkas takes a deep breath of cold air, praying to the Divines to ensure Libby has a safe journey.

When he comes into Jorrvaskr, everyone is set for lunch, and the moment Vilkas sets eyes on him, concern etches on his rough face. Farkas must look as haunted as he feels.

"Farkas, is everything all right?" Vilkas asks.

"Yeah, I'm just worried about Libby." He says as he takes his seat next to his brother.

"Where is she?" Aela asks.

"She's out of the city for now, and she won't be back until after nightfall."

Vilkas turns to Kodlak, seated next to Diamond. "Did you approve this Kodlak?"

"I did not. I didn't even know she left. Any reason why?"

Farkas takes a deep breath. "Today is the anniversary of her parents' death."

Silence. The Companions grow stiff, some even lowering their heads. Sorrow and silent condolences wave all around.

"Wait," Diamond chimes. "what did you say?"

Farkas looks to her and is surprised to see the Companion's eyes gleaming, almost as if she felt sorry for Libby.

"Today is the anniversary of her parents' death." Farkas repeats.

Diamond's lip slightly quivers. Her hand shaking, she lower the loaf of bread she was about to chomp. "Today is Libby's birthday."

That.

That is what makes Farkas' knees quiver, even if he's seated in a chair. He almost falls out of it. He feels lightheaded and sick. Vilkas' hand is on his shoulder and Farkas buries his face in his hands.

"By Azura . . ." Athis murmurs, shaking his head.

"The poor thing." Ria whispers.

Both her parents' died . . . on her _birthday_.

Diamond's eyes grow distant and her skin seems to pale. She slowly turns her head away and just stares blankly at her plate of food. She had never clarified with Libby on when her parents had died, she didn't want to poke Libby on the subject, and she didn't even want to bring up the past of her mother. But all she had told Diamond was that both her parents had died in Evening Star. She never gave a day or a number. Now she knows why.

"It also seems to be the same day that she had snapped in the mines after her first year." Kodlak says softly.

"It all makes sense now." Farkas says, his own vision starting to swim.

Kodlak looks to Diamond and sets a hand on her shoulder. Diamond sets a hand over her mouth, her eyes growing red. She takes deep breaths, as if calming herself not to cry over Libby. Farkas almost wanted to slap her. But this isn't the time for that. He needs to stay focused on Libby.

"I'm going to her house in the evening. Until then . . . I-I just need some rest." Farkas says. It's the only thing he says before he heads down the steps into the living quarters.

Diamond swallows, and it feels as if her throat has grown tighter. "I'm not feeling well. Please excuse me."

Quickly Diamond ascends the steps, grabs her favorite rose-pink cloak and wraps it around her shoulders. She slings her hammer across her back and exits into the cold. Her feet already knew of the destination they were bringing her. Pulling her cloak tightly around herself, her breath huffing in front of her.

She's through the front gates in an instant, paying no heed to the guards. Even with the chill of the winter, Diamond doesn't feel any colder than she does. Her feet are bringing her to the Western Watchtower, a small distance outside the city, but left abandoned after a dragon attack. Diamond believed it – that day she and Libby were caught in Helgen when what dragon attacked still sends shivers up her spine.

The tower is in sight, and Diamond hops and trudges up the jagged and broken steps. Once inside, she settles down on a bedroll that was left by some, bandit or hermit perhaps. She doesn't sit on it, she merely makes her way halfway up the steps and sits down.

The stone is cold on her bum, but she doesn't care. She sets a hand on her face and lets her tears fall.

While it does tickle her anger that Libby has kept yet another secret from her, this one doesn't feel as harsh, as it is something personal. Yet it only clarifies to Diamond that she still doesn't know a whole lot about her once-best-friend. A part of her wants to know more about Libby, and yet her anger of the past is still holding her back.

Still, her heart goes out to Libby. Before, Diamond had thought Libby's life was almost perfect. Libby had always seemed so happy, compassionate and kind – and she had a family. She could rake in gold whenever she wanted, and it seemed her past didn't bother her much.

Diamond never would've guessed that Libby's past was filled with such bloodshed and loss. It almost didn't seem to fit. Each new thing she finds out, she feels like she's getting to know the _real_ Libby. She can't say the girl who was once her friend is now gone; she's still there, it's just now Diamond is seeing her in a different light. Whether their future is together, it's still left to be decided.

A breeze kicks up from the north, it whistles through the air and into the tower. It catches Diamond's hair, fluttering it and somehow brushing it behind her ear. It smells of pine and spring.

More tears escape Diamond's eyes and she softly closes them, folds her hands, and says a prayer for the assassin and her parents, wishing them well.

* * *

In the misty foothills next to Whiterun, Libitania strode between the trees of the small forest, barely more than a sliver of darkness winding through the woods. The sun is drowning beneath the weight of a purple twilight as she weaves, walk twenty yards into the middle of them, their skinny trunks and thin, graceful branches reaching for the heavens as if hoping to scape against the stars, and find what she's looking for.

She's been walking since before dawn, her horse following her as she would. Today, even the forest seems silent.

Good. Today is not a day for the sounds of life. Today is for the hollow wind rustling branches, for the rushing of the half-frozen White River, for the crunch of snow under her boots. The complete absence of life.

Today is not even the day to celebrate her own life.

One this day almost two to three years ago, she knew what she had to do – she saw every step with such brutal clarity that it was easy when the time came. She had told Prince Joric and The Companions that she had snapped that day in the Silver Mines of Markarth, but it was a lie. _Snapped_ implied too human a feeling; nothing like the cold, hopeless rage that had taken hold of her and shut down everything the night she had awaken from her dream of losing her father.

There's a gathering of trees with bushes based all around its trunk. Bushing the branches aside reveals the inside to be hollow and big enough for her to crawl inside, wrap her cloak around herself, and lie. She lies on her side, curling into herself like a caterpillar. Her horse followed as close as it could, delicately touching the side of her head with its snout. Libby reaches up and scratches at the horse's chin. She feels it turn away, and then the crunching of snow as the horse sits down.

Looking out into the still forest, Libitania tries to remember what it was like to have a family.

* * *

_Her little ruby slippers clicked along the tiles, the skirt of her little pink dress bouncing as she followed behind the tall form of her parents. She were towering compared to her seven-year old self._

"_Come on, this way." Her mother had called. Her dainty ringed-hand holding that of her father's._

_Libitania couldn't hide her excited smile as her parents guided her down the hallway to the right and they turned a corner into an open hallway. It had a solid wall on its right side, and an open left side revealing an inner garden. It beamed with life of chirping birds and butterflies fluttering around the multitude of colorful flowers. There were more thin columns with connecting arches and a black tendril-designed railing in between. _

_It led them straight out to an ebony black door. When her father opened the door, his back muscles contracting against his tunic, it was three steps before a curtain of green vines hung over an open archway in a spilling cascade. Flowers dotted the vines, their heavy heads lolling sleepily amid lush green foliage. _

_Parting the vines with one hand, her mother ushered her first, and they passed through the archway and into a circular room. Countless crimson buds climbed the walls, their interlacing boughs and vines tangled enough to look like veins of an arm and hand._

_The vines and flowers commandeered the domed ceiling, and flying buttresses were sculpted into the shape of voluptuous women with bows and arrows pulled back ready to fire. Through the skylight windows, Libitania detected the mesh of tree limbs and the hint of blue sky through one of the thinner sections. Gazing upward, she thought there must be thousands of the flowers, maybe even hundreds of thousands – every single bud a different shade: from blood red, to ocean blue, to candy pink, to a sunlight yellow hue. In addition to the climbing roses, long-stemmed roses grew along the base of the trellised walls, their blooms blending in with all the others. _

_Their overpowering fragrance, like the smell from a shattered bottle of perfume, filled her nostrils with every breath, making her light-headed. But her giddiness kept her hopping like a jumping bean. _

_She saw, or more rather heard a waterfall occupying an entire wall of the chamber. The beauty was constructed of all natural stones that were imported from High Rock itself. Water flowed from out of the wall, down the gleaming stones and into a large circular pond filled with coy fish. Lily pads floated on the surface, blooming with flowers and the height of the stones nearly reached the rotunda. It was surrounded with greenery and vines that slithered across the brown basin and across the rocks. _

_This entire chamber was decorated with plants from exotic forests: palm trees, bushes, shrubs – all bearing colorful flowers. High above a blanket of roses twined with the decorative domed ceiling, the vines braided with the wrought-iron bars. _

_The air was fresh and cool, and smelt of salt. Her mother released her hand and Libitania wandered close to the fountain. The roses seemed to watch her like thousands of spectators as she passed, their delicate heads bobbing in her wake._

"_This is amazing." she breathed as she tilted her head up and started to rotate into a circle. _

"_I knew you would enjoy it, my pet. With autumn now rolling in, we can only enjoy the colors of the leaves, for their limited time." Her mother said, her hands folded in front of her. The sea-green skirts of her dress matched heavily with her mother's pale skin. Behind her, her father's arms were lovingly around her mother's waist. Her father wore a luscious blue jacket embroidered with gold, white pants and black leather boots._

_The flowers were glorious. Without having to ask, Libitania simply started in a direction down a corridor and her mother followed, adoring the colors. _

_She could also see weeping willows, birch trees speckled along certain walls, timbers and bushes with fruits, and sections where the floor became dirt and the smell of fresh herbs wafted into her nose. Parsley, sage, rosemary, thyme, basil. Benches came up here and there, set under some of the saplings, posted next to ponds, and all throughout there is row after row of sumptuous blooms._

_Brushing her fingers delicately along the soft flowers, Libitania giggled as a beautiful white butterfly fluttered around the bush, and hovered around her hand. When she stood up straight and held out her hand, the butterfly circled around, before softly landing on the tip of her pointer finger. _

_She laughed with an exhale as she carefully brought her hand closer until she could see the yellow-outlined spots on the butterfly's wings. It flapped them slowly, but didn't take off. Looking over her shoulder and hurried her parents to come over and when they did, they leant in, smiling as they saw the insect sitting perfectly still on her daughter's little finger._

"_You know they say it is good luck if a butterfly lands on you." Her father smiled. _

_She looked at her mother and then felt the butterfly lift. She giggled more as the insect fluttered close to her nose, touching the tip before dancing off deeper into the garden. She chased after it, calling to it to slow down. _

_As she was about to reach up and offer her hand to it again, another hand, larger than hers shot out and whacked at the insect. _

_Libitania stopped dead in her tracks. _

_She stood frozen as she watched the little butterfly scramble left and right like a drunk. Its antennae were twitching, its wings desperately flapping. She knelt down and offered her finger, and the butterfly turned. _

_It stretched out its one leg, but just as it was about to touch her nail, a small black boot came crashing down. _

_Libitania heard the crunch. _

_She stared at the boot. Then slowly, ever so slowly she angled her head up. _

_The boot belonged to a Nord boy her age. He had brown close-cut hair, and a pout on his lips. His red jacket had gold buttons and a small monarchy symbol over his heart. He stared straight at Libitania, his blue eyes blazing with challenge and daring. Libitania stared back at him, still knelt before his boot._

"_Butterflies are stupid!" He spat at her. "Just like you and your stupid kingdom!"_

"_Olaf!" His mother called. The sound of her shoes signaling her quick approach._

_She could hear the clicking of her own parents' heels. They stopped dead. _

"_Libitania," her mother warned. Only they ever knew the limitation of her anger. While she'd inherited most of her mother's looks, she'd received her father's volatile temper and wildness._

"_Go back to the shorelines where you belong." The boy grinned at her._

_He killed it. He killed her butterfly. _Her_ butterfly; and he had the nerve to tell her –!_

"_Libitania," her mother repeated. _

_She remembers._

_Something . . . everything snapped._

_Her father wasn't fast enough to stop her as Libitania hurtled herself forward and tackled the boy. _

_Teeth and nails out they rolled across the dirt floor, flipping and shredding and biting. Libitania thought she might have been roaring, roaring so loud the garden shook. Or that could've been the boy as she raked her nails down his chubby, pale face. Feet slammed into her stomach, and the air shot out of her as someone tried to kick her off._

_She hit the earth, spat out a mouthful of blood, and was up in a heartbeat. Her hand lashed out and snagged the boy's tunic and she fisted it and yanked him back. She grabbed him by the collar and threw him to the hard-packed ground._

_The boy had blood down his face and in his one eye. She had already knocked out three of his white teeth, and she brought her fist down onto his face. Her knuckles howled in pain, but all she could see was that black boot, the abstract bending of the butterfly's wings, hear the crunch of the insect. _

_The boy shouted at her to stop as he brought up his arms to block his face. If her nails couldn't find his face, they found his arms. She reeled back, red scars cutting down his neck. If he hit her, she didn't feel it. She didn't feel the stinging, or the warm trickle of blood. She just drew back her fists, her knee digging harder into the boy's chest, and stuck. Again. And again._

_She lifted her aching fist once more, but there were hands at her wrists, under her arms, hauling her off. Libitania thrashed against them, still screaming, the sound wordless and endless._

"_Libitania!" Her father roared in her ear, his nails cutting into her shoulder – not hard enough to damage but to make her pause, to realize there were eyes everywhere, watching her._

_And on the ground, the boy's face was bloodied and swollen. He hadn't moved an inch from where she had thrown him onto the floor. Blood from his broken nose leaked onto his cut lip and dripped to the floor. His mother was already trying to help him up, but he was out of it._

"_Enough of this!" Her mother hissed, squeezing her tighter. "What were you thinking?! What drove you to such an iniquitous act?!"_

_Libitania stared straight at her mother, snarled, and shook off her grip. Everyone was silent as she wiped her bloody nose with the back of her wrist. She looked back and went over to where she could still see the squished wings of her butterfly. No one else had stepped on it, and those unknowingly crowded over it hurried back, mothers clasping their children close to them._

_She knelt before the ruined butterfly. Tears then started to roll down her crimson stained cheeks. She extended out her hand, now covered with red, on the tips of her fingers, and under her nails. It dripped from her nose, dotting her skirt and falling a couple inches from the butterfly._

_The butterfly twitched. Its white wings struggled to shake. Slowly, she watched it turn to her finger. Just as before, it stretched out one of its legs, bent at an odd angle. She could see its curly tongue reeling, and its leg finally touched her. It pulled itself closer, its tongue poking at the blood on her finger. She wanted to pull back, but she watched. _

_Watched as the little white butterfly tickled her finger. And with one last flap of its wings, it grew still and slumped._

_Scooping up the insect in her tainted hands, she slowly, slowly turned towards the boy, now guarded by his mother. She looked to Libitania, eyes wide and filled with fear. The boy had her same eyes._

"_If I ever see you again," she snarled. "I'll pluck your eyes out with my bare hands."_

_She was never allowed back into the Butterfly Garden again. _

_It was all over. _

_She had lost. _

_She didn't care when her mother walloped her within an inch of her life after they got home. She didn't care that her bones ached and her face throbbed with bruises as she knelt before a small hole. It was over. _

_Libitania tried her best to keep her hands steady as she lowered the white butterfly into the little hole she dug under her window. The insect was encased in her still-bloodied fingers and jagged nails. She was almost worried she would ruin the pureness of its bent wings._

_She set the insect down, placed a little pink flower next to it, and slowly scooped the dirt back in with her hands. _

_Footsteps sounded behind her and Libitania cringed, waiting for another hand to backhand her across her face. She carefully turned to find her mother and father, her mother's beautiful face still stern with anger, but her father was smiling with compassion. He approached the little grave and Libitania scooted herself aside. His hands, dark and callus, reached up and plucked a small purple flower from the pot at her window, and set it atop the small grave._

_His hand then reached up and caressed Libitania's bruised face. Her mother's face softened into regret. Her father opened his arms and her eyes flicked from her father's arms to his face. He had sad smile on his lips, but he was still extraordinarily handsome._

_Libitania's lip quivered and she whimpered as she buried herself in her father's arms. There was the footsteps of her mother, and then a soft hand was petting her head. Wrapped in her father's arms, Libitania cried. _

_Grief and sorrow lanced at her heart. She did want to go back to the Butterfly Garden. Too bad she couldn't; not when there were mean little Nord boys killing her butterflies._

* * *

Farkas flips the pages of the book he had been reading while he waited for Libby to come home. He had finished A Thief of Virtue and helped himself to one of the many books in Libby's personal library. He was halfway through before he stood from his seat as the door quietly opened. He marks the book and sets it aside on an end table.

The outside hall was fairly dark, a majority of Libby's servants having gone to bed. He had heard the clock chime midnight some time ago, but he knew it wasn't exhaustion weighing down Libby's shoulders as she slipped into her rooms. Her eyes are purple beneath, her face wan, lips colorless.

Libby glances once at him, her emerald-and-gold eyes weary and haunted. His heart feels heavy at their bleakness.

She begins unfastening her cloak as she walks past him into the bedroom. Wordlessly, he followed her, if only because she hadn't had a hint of warning or reproach in her expression. At this point, he believed she wouldn't have cared if she'd found Ulfric Stormcloak himself in her rooms.

She removed her coat and then her boots, leaving them wherever she happened to discard them. He looked away as she unbuttoned her tunic and walked into the dressing room. A moment later, she walked back out, wearing a nightgown that was far more modest than her usual lacy attire. Her hair down around her shoulders, molded into delicate waves, as always.

Farkas swallowed hard. He should have given her privacy instead of waiting here. If she'd wanted him to be here, she would have written _him_ a note.

Libby stops before the dim fireplace and used the poker to stir the coals before tossing another two logs on. She stared down at the flames. Her back was still to him when she spoke.

"While I appreciate you waiting, it was a waste. There's nothing that can be said, or done."

"Then let me keep you company."

If she realized how much he knew, she didn't care to ask how.

"I don't want company." He says with a small shake of her head, as if having him here is more painful than being alone. But her voices hitches, as if he wanted to stop herself.

"_Want_ and _need_ are different things." Nassari, probably, should have been here—another child of a conquered kingdom. But he didn't want the princess to be the one she turned to. He can't turn away from her—not today.

"So you're just going to stay here all night?" She flicked her eyes to the couch between them.

"I've slept in worse places."

"I think my experience with 'worse places' is a lot more horrible than yours." Again, that twisting in his gut. But then she looked through the open bedroom door to the foyer table, and her brows rose. "Is that . . . chocolate cake?"

"Yeah." Farkas nervously rubs his head. "Now, I don't want you to think that I'm being inconsiderate. But I-I just wanted to do something for you, despite on what happened. I thought you might need some."

"Need, not want?"

A ghost of a smile was on her lips, and he almost sags in relief as he says, "For you, I'd say that chocolate cake is most definitely a _need_. You might not like you're birthday, but I'm just, ever so grateful to the gods that you were born in my life."

Libby stares at him, and then she rises. She crosses from the fireplace to where he stands, stopping a hand's breadth away and staring up at him. Some of the color has returned to her face.

Farkas reaches for her, a hand slipping around her waist and the other twining itself through her hair as he holds her tightly to him. His heart thunders through him so hard he knew she could feel it. After a second, her arms came up around him, her fingers digging into his back in a way that made him realize how close they stood.

He shoved that feeling down, even as the silken texture of her hair against his fingers made him want to bury his face in it, and the smell of her, laced with mist and night, has him grazing his nose against her neck.

There are other kinds of comfort that he can give her than mere words, and if she needed that kind of distraction . . . He shoved down that thought, too, swallowing it until he nearly chokes on it.

Her fingers are moving down his back, still digging into his muscles with a fierce kind of possession. If she kept touching him like that, his control was going to slip completely.

And then she pull back, just far enough to look up at him again, still so close their breath mingled. He finds himself gauging the distance between their lips, his eyes flicking between her mouth and her eyes, the hand he had entwined in her hair stilling.

Desire roars through him, burning down every defense he'd put up, erasing every line he's convinced himself he had to maintain. He cups one side of her face and leans down and kisses her lips. They're still cold that it shivers him, but he feels sudden warmth flood him as he feels her kiss him back.

Her hands travel back up until she's holding his shoulders, inhaling heavily as they press together. Yet it still feels as if there's too much room between them. Letting his restraints loosen, Farkas runs his hands down Libby's sides until he cups her bum, and lifts her. Libby's legs cling and wrap around his hips as if it's instinct. Their kissing intensifies.

Farkas takes a couple steps back until he feels the edge of the chair touch the back of his knees, and then he sits down slowly, Libby's legs now straddling his lap.

They pull apart enough to look at one another in the eyes, their colors correlating with each other, turquoise and emerald. Like the northern lights of Skyrim's mountains.

With Libby's thighs still clinging to his hips, Farkas kisses Libby again, his hands cupping just below her tender bum. She gasps nervously, her hands entangling in Farkas' hair. Her hands roam underneath his tunic.

Farkas withdraws only long enough to remove his tunic, revealing his muscled torso and perfectly formed abs. Libby takes in Farkas' tan skin and muscled chest, the slender scars that pepper his torso. Her heart is beating so fast she can hardly breathe. Her hand roams across his abs, exhaling in admiration. While a part of her does mean for things to move a certain way, she also just wants to _feel_ him.

Feel his power, and his muscles, and his skin. Feel that he is real and he is here.

He can be her. This beautiful, powerful creature can be hers.

Farkas' lips are on her again and Libby wraps her arm around his neck, pulling him close. She gasps as Farkas continues to trace his lips down every inch of exposed skin she has exposed. Her legs grip around the Companin's hips, earning another growl. Libby lets out a groan as she feels Farkas slip one hand under her shirt and spider-crawl its way to her chest. She grips his hair with one hand while the other gripped his shoulder.

They part with a deep exhale.

And then she said, so quietly it was hardly more than a murmur, "I don't know if I should be ashamed or grateful that, despite what happened before now, it somehow brought me to you."

Farkas looks to her, and traces his finger from the middle of her forehead, down the side of her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. He has his obstacles to overcome, but so did she—perhaps more obstacles than he'd even realized.

He has no response to what she'd said. But what can he say? He has vague ideas of what she has gone through, but they could just be far, far worse than he wants to think. The thought of anyone other than him doing something to Libby . . .

Farkas kisses Libby's collarbone, then kisses her neck. His hands cup just below Libby's tender bum and he carries the assassin from the chair, up and over to the bed, never faltering a step. He then gently sets her down atop the soft mattress.

Slowly they ease themselves down so that Libby is fully on his back, Farkas propped up on his forearms to hover over the assassin. When he starts to kiss her neck, Libby arcs his back and groans with pleasure in response when Farkas grinds his hips against her still-spread legs. When Libby's breathing becomes fast, Farkas pulls back and looks down at the assassin. His hand caresses her cheek. "Libby," his soft, full lips whisper. "I'll be right here for you. Whenever you need me."

Farkas intertwines their hands and lifts them to kiss the back of hers.

Libby's eyes water, but she smiles as they escape. Farkas' eyes seem to glow in the limited lighting of the candles around her bed. When he looks at her, the assassin can feel everything just melt away.

"Let me love you when you come undone." His lips whisper against Libby's skin.

Libby has heard promises before. Many that were easily fractured. She had believed all of them, and she still doesn't doubt that they were true, they were just never fulfilled.

She lean up, caressing his face and kisses him deeply. Farkas' tongue is there once again, and her body tingles with excitement and lust. But alas, Farkas parts their lips and looks down at her body.

Thank the _gods_ she has gained back enough weight and muscle to not be so skeletal anymore. Now she's been deemed a normal healthy, but she is still striving to be as fit as she had been before.

There is a question in Farkas' eyes – a question written over every inch of her body. Libby shyly smiles, as they both knew the answer. Tonight just wasn't the night. But it will be coming soon. So Libby merely leans up and kisses Farkas again and giggles.

"Stay with me?" she says with an innocent face.

Farkas kisses her back, his own smile pushing through as he parts Libby's mouth again. "I will stay until the morning comes. Longer if you desire it." He kisses Libby's forehead.

Oh, Libby desires everything from Farkas right now. But they both knew tonight just wasn't going to be it, and so he merely flops to the side next to Libby and kissing her collarbone. Farkas brushes a large hand down her hair, and she almost purrs.

Libby smiles into the pillow and leans into Farkas' touch some more, even going so far to put a hand on his broad chest, savoring the steady, assured heartbeat pounding beneath.

"Thank you, Farkas." Libby murmurs, her own words slurring as she yawns.

With her hand intertwined to Farkas', clasped to his chest, the assassin feels something molten rush through her, pouring over the large cracks and fractures widely gaping and open. Not to hurt or to mar – but to weld. To forge. But at the same time, it melts down the remains of her walls.

The silence within her – the icy silence that has hardened her since she had lost her family, it ebbs ever so slightly. And slowly, she can feel herself releasing some things that has become so foreign to her. Warmth. Happiness. Hope.

Love.


	33. Chapter 32

**~WARNING~**

Standing in front of the redwood mirror, Libby braids her hair down to her shoulders, her hair finally having grown out long enough that she could braid it; its tail now resting between her shoulderblades. Her stomach was aching so much today that she barely had breakfast. And it wasn't because of the chocolate cake she devoured yesterday. And it _certainly_ didn't have anything to do with Farkas lying in her bed, half-naked, bathing in the morning sun.

The clock in Libby's room reads noon. Prince Joric is bound to be here soon. And that is why Libby is having a hard time even swallowing water. But she has nothing to be nervous about. This meeting is strictly business. She has the trunks of gold in her room all set for her debt to be paid to the prince, gifts and all included.

It's simple. She'll tell him she's finished with the contract, pay him back for the gold he deposited, and give back all of the gifts he had sent her. Once he sees the trunks of gold, he'll be on his way, and Libby can finally . . .

Her heart skips a beat.

Libby can finally be free. At least, that's her dream.

She shakes her head. She can't afford to dream, at least not about that one. Not yet. Things can still go wrong, and Libby can only hope she's prepared for most of them. As she slips into her leather boots, Farkas speaks up. "So will I be able to pound this little whelp if he puts up a fight?"

Libby looks to him, still cocooned in her bed sheets, a smirk on his face. "I would love to say yes, as I have no control over your decisions. But I would highly _recommend_ that you don't, but for reputational and political issues that could follow."

Farkas chuckles as he slips out of the bed, the cotton legs of his borrows night clothes dropping over his muscular legs. He walks over to her. "If you want me there, just say so."

"I do, but I can't afford to." Libby says. Farkas reaches her, wrapping his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. "If he decides to throw a fit, I don't want you to kill him in risk of The Companions. Though really, I don't want any blood shed this time."

"You don't think he'll understand?"

Libby lowers her head. "No, I have my doubts on his sanity. Though he's been well-behaved, I have no doubt his bratty, spoiled side is bound to show."

In the hours before dawn, Libby lied in her bed, thinking all about how she's going to break the deal with Prince Joric. Just the way he talked about the Companions, his hatred and loathing, it was all too familiar, and yet far from sane. He could have her head for this, send her back into the mines – but with the gold given to her by the Guild, she has nothing to fear. But she'll still have to keep her eyes open for anything the prince might throw at her later.

She told Farkas, and showed Farkas everything the prince had given her and told her on what to do – and the whole time, he didn't yell, he didn't scream, he didn't call her a whore or a bitch. He just nodded and blinked, his eyes never leaving her. When Libby was finished, he simply kissed her forehead, then her lips, and then said, "I'll help you do whatever it takes to clear your name. I'll try to help in any way I can."

Libby almost cried, but instead, burrowed into his chest and kissed his collarbone.

"And before you say anything, no I still don't want you there. The last thing I need is seeing the reason why I'm quitting this contract." She says. Farkas gives her a cheeky smile. "I don't want him targeting you."

"I can take care of myself."

"I know you can, it's just me being prepared . . . or cautious . . . or paranoid. Whatever you prefer." She waves her hand.

Farkas kisses her shoulder, then her neck, and then her cheek. That lavender perfume is enough to make him want to pin her the bed. "I'm sure you'll be fine. You're being fair, you're being professional, and you have everything to pay him back."

"I sure hope so."

There's a knock at the door and Libby practically flinches. It opens and Sazami is there, the gold of her multiple hoop earrings winking in the light. "Prince Joric of Morthal is here to see you, My Lady." Her expression is rather concerned and worried.

Libby walks over to her and pets her head, giving her a brief bod. "Thank you. I'll be down shortly."

Sazami nods, swallowing back whatever response she wanted to say and turn back down the hall. Libby exhales quickly and looks over to Farkas. He makes his way over to Libby, rubbing her shoulders and kissing the side of her head. "You'll do fine. And I'll be right here if anything happens."

"Okay." Libby breathes, taking in the smell of his skin. She steps over the threshold and into the hall.

She make her way down the hallway, mentally putting herself into Libitania Desidenius, Master of the Thieves Guild – remembering how she would handle deals in the past, keeping her composure, her clam, and her wits. She heads down the red carpeted steps and into the formal living room. Turning the corner, she hears the tinking of porcelain and clinking of silverware. Libby adjusts her jerkin, making sure to feel the weapons tucked into her ribs.

While she could've gone for a nice dress and slippers, to show Joric how refined he is, she wanted to intimidate him, make him feel the fear that trembles others when they speak of Libitania Desidenius. Her outfit consists of all black leather besides her cape. While flattering in all the right places, it also has plenty of slots and straps for weapons. The silver embroidery glints in the light, adding just the perfect touch of refinement and wealth.

She forces herself into assassin mentality. Whether it's Nox, or guards, she will kill them all in her home if they dare defy her fair agreement. They would be stupid to try and fight Skyrim's Assassin. Especially with her training, she's gotten much, much stronger.

She can do this.

Her Nightingale sword pats against her thighs as she enters the narrow archway leading into the living room. She first finds Nimpael serving the prince a cup of warm tea. Whiterun received a fair blanket of snow last night, and already it's melting away. The weather of Skyrim is a mystery of its own.

Libby briefly caught her eyes upon her, but she keeps them on the prince, not wanting to give away Libby is in the room. Libby smiles, but forces herself to breathe and lifts her shoulders high. Nox is there too, standing behind the couch with her arms crossed. There's no other guards in the room. Nox probably spent the better part of her time scanning the room for booby-traps or hidden spies.

Nimpael sets down the tray of finger foods and exits through a door on the opposite side of the room. Libby counts the seconds it takes for them to get completely relaxed before she purposely booms her voice. "I hope my servants are treating you well."

She smiles as she watches Joric and Nox jump from their seats, or position. Libby rounds the glass coffee table towards the single, green upholstered armchair poised in front of the fireplace, now turned towards the couch where the prince is sitting.

At first, Prince Joric's face registered a familiarity and security, but upon seeing her attire and how well she's gotten herself into shape, his face drops into surprise, and Libby watches delicate lines of fear etch across his forehead. Nox looked rather surprised too, even putting her hand on the hilt of her sword as Libby sits in the chair.

She crosses her legs and folds her fingers together, her elbows resting on the arms. "I want to think you for coming out to meet me."

No formalities. No delicate politeness. This is where she needs to let her arrogance shine. "If I may, I have an uneasy feeling about what we are about to discuss." Prince Joric says, giving a charming smile that probably would've made every other woman's heart flutter. But not Libby – not since she has Farkas, who is still just up in her bedroom. She had almost forgotten how handsome Joric was, but now his beauty means nothing, and she now has no problem splattering that beauty along her walls.

"There's nothing to discuss. I'm done."

Silence. Nox looks to Joric, who is slightly stiff, blinks and then blinks again. "What?"

"I'm done." Libby repeats, making her voice laced with absolute boredom and impatience – like she has better things to do. Which she does . . . "I'm not finishing this contract, and I will not be under your service anymore."

"Why not?" the prince asks, setting down the cup of tea, anger slowly crawling across his handsome features.

"My reasons are my own, and that is all you will get."

"How dare you!" Joric rises from his seat. "I freed you from Cidhna Mines! I gave you gifts!"

"And I thank you for that." Libby says with a slow nod of her head. "But now that I am out, I am paying off my debt to you, and to Skyrim."

"What –?"

Libby snaps her fingers and instantly her male servants bring in the trunks of gold into the room. The coins loudly shake as they carry it in, loud enough that Joric can hear it, and Nox too. The men set the four trunks down, grunting and clapping their hands. Libby rises from her chair and walks over to the trunks.

"This will be my debt to you, Your Highness." She says with a deathly calm. "This will pay off my debt to you, as well as the gifts you've given me."

She opens one of the trunks to reveal the gleaming gold, and all of the jewelry and the special suit Joric had given Libby, set neatly across the top.

"You ungrateful _bitch_!" the prince spits, walking over towards Libby. Nox follows, her gate ready to stop the prince. But he stops a foot from Libby, the assassin not flinching once. "If it weren't for me, you'd still be rotting in those mines harvesting silver, bleeding out on the whippings posts! When I tell them that I no longer need your services –!"

"I no longer need your word, Prince Joric." Libby purrs, grinning wide.

When the prince's eyebrows rise, she steps around him, heading back into her chair. Her hands folded behind her, her ebony cape flowing like a train.

"I have brought together enough gold to pay off my debt to Skyrim . . . and then some." She turns and sits in her chair, resting her cheek against her knuckles, keeping her face neutral and bored. "I no longer need your word to keep me from going back into the mines. I am now a free woman."

Libby's lips almost trembled when she spoke with word free. It didn't feel appropriate to use such a term, not when she still had to deal with the output of the Prince's anger. He could charge her for anything, and coin can only go so far. But she's Skyirm's Assassin, she has the fight of Zusa Phoenix and the sleuth of the Thieves Guild. He can't touch her, not anymore.

And that's the reason why he is fuming.

"If you want someone else to finish off the Companions, go ahead. But it won't be me, and as long as I'm still here, they won't succeed."

Prince Joric stares at her, then to the trunk of gold, and back to her. "They accepted you. They took you in; how else would you develop such a sudden change in heart!" his face smoothens out to an insane realization. "You found someone. There is someone you care about!"

Libby gives a cold chuckle. "Well, I admit, you're smarter than you look."

"Finish this contract or I'll have them all beheaded!" the prince demands, pointing his hand through the air as if he can see Jorrvaskr from here. And Libby almost laughs out loud.

But she manages to control herself into a chuckle and an inhale. "Oh Your Highness, you misunderstand."

Libby rises from the chair, Nox bracing her hand against her sword. Libby can now feel the roles reversed: the prince is now struggling to hold onto whatever power he thinks he still has over her, and Libby is the bored hierarchy seated in her chair.

She steps close to the prince, the fool letting her get within an inch of him. "I am a free woman. I am Skyrim's Assassin. You have no power over me, not anymore. And if you dare come near the Companions again . . ."

In a flash and a smooth swipe, Libby has the prince on the floor pinned beneath the blade of her hidden dagger. Nox tried to attack her, but Libby kicked out her feet, swiped and snatched the captain's sword, setting the blade onto the Captain of the Guard's neck as she slapped into the cold marble floor. One simply movement and she'll cut her own throat.

They're both surprised, realizing now the threat she was before her capture; realizing they are in the midst of Skyrim's Assassin, Libitania Desidenius.

Libby turns to the prince, who is now deathly pale. Libby's dagger is set against his jugular. Libby leans in close, her eyes now a cold concentrated shade of jade.

"If you try to hurt the Companions again," she repeats. "No force in the world will hold me back from slaughtering _everyone_ responsible." her words are low and gravely—the voice of a demon, not a woman.

Libby lifts herself and her blades from the two, and immediately her bulky bodyguards lift and haul the prince out towards the cavernous entryway. Nox embarrassingly stumbles, growling to herself and to Libby, though there's less hatred in it than Libby had thought. The guards stop by the door. Nox shaking her shoulders and sheathing her sword.

"You can't do this!" Joric screams. "I paid for your services! I freed you from Cidhna Mines!"

Libby rolls her eyes. "Joric," she says, ditching the formality. Her voice still calm, which she knew had to be driving the Prince of Morthal crazy. "I'm formally saying to you that I'm done with this contact. I'm paying back to you all of the gold you used on my services, as well as returning the gifts you've given me. What more do you want?"

"I want those Companions _dead_!" the prince says, trying to wrench himself free. "They're fools for denying me!"

"Then you can take your personal vendetta with someone else. I am no longer in service to you." As she speaks, her servants lug the hulking trunks of gold out to the prince's carriage. "Now, I am giving you a chance to walk out of my manor with dignity and grace."

For a moment, the prince simply stares at her with damning hatred. Then he shrugs off the hold of her guards and adjusts his jacket. He doesn't say another word as he turns away from Libby and exits the manor. Libby stands in the door watching as the prince heads down the steps and towards his carriage. She slightly tenses, keeping her arms loose at her sides as Nox makes to leave, but when she's through the threshold, she turns to Libby, her back to the prince.

But she's surprised when she hears the Captain of the Morthal guard say, "Thank you for having us."

"You're not going to chastise me for abandoning my word?"

"Not when you have the coin to back it up. If I'm honest, I don't even know why he's acting so irked. Well, in a way I do, but that's his own personal problems."

"Don't take my arrogance as rouge, I am grateful for what you've done, even if the circumstances were less than desirable. But I am done." Libby says, keeping her face neutral since the prince can still see her.

"Then let me be the first to congratulate you as a free woman." Nox says, putting her hand on her sword, possibly to keep the prince thinking Nox is threatening Libby.

"He's not going to give this up."

"I'll talk some sense into him."

Libby narrows her eyebrows to further sue the façade. "You'd do that for me?"

"Only because you did everything right. This is where I see his spoiled princely attitude come forth."

"I meant what I said." Libby says, her tone deepening. "If he dares to harm the Companions again, I won't hesitate to spill his throat across the stone."

Nox bites her lip, grunting as she swallows. "Then I shall stay out of your way."

Libby raises her eyebrows, making sure to look bored. "Those are some powerful, and, rather unexpected words."

Nox doesn't say anything. She simply sighs, lifts her chin high, squares her shoulders and turns away from Libby. She heads down the steps of the manor, her green cape flowing behind her. Libby waits until she is in the carriage before she steps back into the manor, shutting the door behind her.

As soon as she locks it, she turns and presses her back to the door, and slides to the floor. Her heart is beating so fast, her hands still slightly shaking. She did it. She paid off the prince.

But she still can't accept that she's free, not when she has to deal with the aftermath of the prince's anger. No – he's not stupid, she showed them what she can and will do to them if they dare come at the Companions again. He has to give up. He has the gold and the gifts.

Libby presses her clammy hands to her cheeks, grateful they're so cold. She feels her pulse in her neck and carefully breathes slowly in and out. Stretching her legs out in front of her, she relaxes, setting her knees into her laps. She predicts the prince trying to target the Companions for what – three days? At most a week. After that, he'll have to quit. Who else is he going to send after them when Libby is the best in all of Tamriel? No one can match her. If she can stop a Faceless, she can stop anyone.

There's movement out of the corner of her eye and she flicks her eyes to the grand staircase tucked against the wall and finds Farkas standing with a cup of coffee in his hand. He looks indifferent.

"How much did you hear?" Libby asks.

"I heard enough. Honestly, I'm not surprised. He seemed quite upset with Kodlak when rejected him." Farkas says as he descends the steps.

"Any reason why, if I can ask?"

Farkas shrugs. "It's Kodlak's reasons alone. But also because, apart from finding it odd that a prince wanted to join a warrior guild, there was just something . . . off about him."

"Great. That only ensues he'll try something to get me back for denying him. We'll have to keep a close eye on Kodlak, and each other as well. It's bad enough most of them still don't trust me."

"I think they're warming up to you." Farkas grins as he reaches Libby. "Now come on, I had Sazami bring up some of your favorite pasta."

"Yeah – I can't move." Libby says with a suddenly tired laugh. It's odd her act had drained her more than she thought, but it's still not even noon yet. But she truly can't move. Her legs would be too shaky. And she'd rather sit here than look foolish trying to walk in front of Farkas. "This floor is very comfy, I assure you."

Farkas chuckles and walks over to a mahogany console table and sets down his cup of coffee in between potted flowers. As Libby sets her head back against the glass, she can't stop the smile that comes across her face as Farkas bends down and slips an arm under her legs, and around her shoulder. She squeaks with a giggle as Farkas effortlessly picks her up and starts to head towards the stairs. Libby lets him carry her, smiling widely as her arms rest around his neck.

"What about your coffee?"

"I'll get it later." Farkas grins as he makes the trek towards her room.

"I'm impressed you know my house by now. I would say you're starting to grow . . . spoiled."

"It's your fault. If it weren't for you letting me into your home, I wouldn't be so accustomed to lavish life." says Farkas as they reach the top of the stairs.

"Well, you know this all started with you having feelings for _me_. Now I see only wanted me for my warm beds and fresh meals." Libby giggles.

"You couldn't be farther from the truth."

They reach Libby's rooms and sure enough the moment they step through, Libby finds the silver trays of pasta and a couple glasses of wine. Farkas sets Libby on the bed and walks around to what is now proclaimed to be "his side." Libby giggles, her black clothing feeling too cumbersome for the plush bed. She sits up, careful not to disturb the trays and begins to remove her cloak. She detaches her belt of daggers, pulls off her boots, removes her jacket, and her vambraces.

"You know I could help you with that." Farkas chimes, Libby giggling at his voice, as he was in the middle of stuffing his face when he spoke.

Libby looks over to him, and sure enough his cheeks are full from a slice of garlic bread. Libby giggles, casting her things aside on a nearby armchair. When she's only in her sleeveless top and pants, she sighs and falls back, the fluffy pillows cradling her head.

She did it.

She paid off the prince. And her payment towards Cidhna Mines is already on its way. Once it reaches the Jarl, there's no way he can deny the five to six other trunks of gold. Joric's was a rather paled in comparison to what she owed the entirety of Skyrim, but that's what she gets for being the best. And best of all, it didn't even put a dent in the Guild's new fortune.

She's actually free. Once Nox deals with Prince Joric, or perhaps once the princeling has simmered down, and realized the wealth he's been given, he'll be gone.

But she's free. She's actually . . . free.

As if reading her thoughts, Farkas asks, "So, how does it feel?"

"Not what I thought it would be. But that could be because I still have to prepare for Joric's retribution. Past his pretty face, he seems like he could be pretty dangerous."

"At least until his parents stop giving him money."

"I had threatened to kill him if he comes after you and the Companions." Libby admits, her cheeks feeling red. Farkas looks to her, and Libby turns her head and finds his eyebrows rather lifted. "And I meant it, and he knows it too."

"I don't know if you're foolish or brave."

"Both have their consequences." Libby sighs and looks to her gilt-detailed ceiling. Only now is she realizing the length of her threat to the prince. If she kills him, she could be trialed for murder once more and sent back to labor in the mines. But she could be able to pay herself off as always. The prince has to be going through every possible way in his head by now. But she'll find a way out of it.

She'll have to tell Kodlak, just so that he's aware of what's to come. And Diamond . . . Diamond cares about Kodlak – it's obvious and there's no denying it, she probably cares for him more than she did for Libby. But does she have the right to know? Prince Joric doesn't even know who Diamond is and her relation to Libby. Kodlak will be the obvious target of the prince's wrath being the Harbinger and all. Perhaps she can try and get him alone when she goes to Jorrvaskr.

"I don't suppose this would be a bad time to mention that I saw you whip him down onto the floor." Farkas speaks up.

Libby giggles. "Well done on your part. I was so focused on him and his captain I barely noticed your presence."

"I've been watching you." Libby turns to him and finds Farkas grinning. She smiles back. "You're quick." Farkas says. "Quicker than I thought you'd be. Or quicker than you were before."

"It's because I've managed to gain back my weight. Had you seen me when I was in the mines –"

Her throat tightens at the memory. The memory of the skeleton girl who got pulled from the mines.

Her face gaunt, tight and haunted form days tapped in darkness, witnessing death at every corner; her ribs protruding out of her from starvation, her spine distinct in her back with the prominent scars of daily whippings.

All too suddenly she can hear the ticking of the pickax hitting stone. She hears the shuffled footsteps of prisoners' feet on dirt, the clinking of chains as they shift to another ore vein. She hears the breathing of the overseer with the iron-tipped whip set in his hand. She can feel the throbbing callus on her hands, wringing the dirt between her toes of her bare feet.

Something . . . dark, writhing and pacing inside of her, waiting for the moment to be unleashed. And then it's the stickiness of her overseer's blood on her hands and warming her legs . . .

She was a completely different person. Frankly, she felt on the verge on insanity.

Had Farkas seen her then . . .

She must've looked as far off as she felt, because there's a warm hand on her shoulder, and Libby has to blink to get her eyes back into focus on her ceiling. She takes a deep breath, feeling it shake as fresh air – not air laced with blood and silver – goes in her lungs. Looking to her left is Farkas, having inched closer. Now he is propped on his elbow, looking down at Libby.

The assassin smiles and leans in, feeling Farkas' warm lips against hers. She inhales deeply and lets her hand trace along his jawline. Kissing back and forth, a little dance among their tongues and Farkas pulls away.

He frowns. "Is something wrong?" he asks as he turns to the assassin.

Libby doesn't say anything. Instead, she inches herself closer and before she knows it, he's cupped one side of Farkas' face, and leans in to connect their lips again. Farkas stiffens with surprise at first, but quickly his hands finds Libby's biceps and the assassin is pulled against him; her legs straddling Farkas' firm hips.

His hands rest on her lower back as Libby holds Farkas' face and kisses him. His hair was so soft, his lips so smooth; his shoulders broad, his chest firm; every piece of him was sculpted into perfection. _Gods above and lords save her_ . . .

When they part, Farkas has a closed-lip smile on his face, and he blinks, briefly entangling those dark lashes of his. Libby traces a finger from the top of Farkas' temple, down to the curve of his cheekbones.

She kisses his forehead, her eyes suddenly filling with tears. "Can I just say thank you?" she whispers.

"For what?" Farkas purrs, his hands rubbing in circular, comforting motion on her back.

"For everything." she breathes, leaning in and resting their foreheads against each other. "I was a complete mess. A gods' damned mess." Farkas chest vibrates as he chuckles. "And you, you saw past everything. Every line of defense I had, you broke through. I'm losing my touch."

Farkas chuckles again, and Libby jolts when she feels a pinch on her bum. Still, she chuckles with Farkas and looks the Companion in the eyes.

"And then I see your face, and I know I'm finally yours. I come to you in pieces, and you can make . . . you make me whole." she says, her tears spilling over. She leans back careful not to drip them on Farkas' cheeks.

Farkas tilts his head up and their lips meet again. When she feels his tongue break the barrier of his lips, she tightens her thighs around Farkas' lap, her arms twining around the Companion's neck.

"I want to love you," she continues through the kiss. "with my very heart and soul and being, but I'm scared."

"You don't have to –"

"But I want to." Libby growls, still holding Farkas' beautiful face. "But I'm scared that I'll lose you."

"You could never lose me." he breathes. Gods, his cologne is seeping into her nose, numbing everything away. He smells divine.

"I hope not."

"You won't." Farkas says firmly, giving Libby's hips a firm grip. "I will be here for you."

"I've heard that before." Libby says, sulking. She relaxes into Farkas' lap, her hands falling to the Companion's chest. His collarbone is distinct and the top of his chest muscles are chiseled like a marble sculpture.

"Then how can I prove it to you?" Farkas asks. There is no hate, there is no anger. It's a simple question. His rough hand caresses Libby's cheek and the assassin leans into it, picking up the smell of steel and sweat and something sweet like chocolate.

She lowers her head shamefully. "I don't know." Her cheeks grow even warmer, and suddenly the jumping off the balcony idea is becoming more preferable.

Still, she hears Farkas give a breath of a laugh, and his hand turns Libby to face him. "Well, when you figure it out, you'll let me know, won't you?" Libby is about to look down again, but Farkas takes her chin and makes Libby look to him. "Won't you?" he repeats.

Like a little school child, Libby nods.

Farkas smiles and they kiss again, this time his hands boldly grope Libby's bum. She groans against Farkas' mouth, lighting shooting through her as she prods his tongue with her own. Unknowingly, Libby starts to move her hips against Farkas' and when she hears the Companion moan, she smiles.

Her arms twine around Farkas' neck again and her hand lays flat against his back and Libby pushes him closer, while the other rests on the nape of Farkas' neck, their kiss deepening. They kiss each other more and more, Libby jolting when Farkas actually smacks his bum. He gives a devious smile and bites his bottom lip.

"Are you holding back from moving your hips?" he growls with lust.

Libby grins back like a feline and shakes her head. But her bravado is kinked when she realizes she's shaking. Farkas takes her hand and kisses it. "Are you okay?"

Libby gives a nod and kisses him again. Farkas' large hands cradle her torso, and one so daringly roams to her crotch. It causes her to angle her head back, allowing Farkas access to his neck. She grips Farkas tighter as his teeth begin to graze along the nape of her neck. She groans as Farkas' fingers travel deeper in between her groin, her body shuddering for a moment.

"Does that feel good?" Farkas rasps, his voice deep.

They suddenly roll, Libby squeaking Farkas crawling after him with the grace of a mountain lion. Libby's hands long to touch his muscled chest.

Farkas descends over her, propping up on his forearms and settling himself in between Libby's legs. His hands burrow beneath Libby's shirt and once she feels the tips of his fingers against her bare skin, Libby nearly turns into a wild animal. Farkas traces up and down Libby's abdomen with a featherlike touch, their lips never parting. Libby allows Farkas to roll the shirt up further until it's over her head and her scarred torso is exposed.

She retracts as she feels so small still compared to Farkas. She might've regained her muscles and weight, but compared to Farkas . . . she's a mere stone against a rock wall.

"Libby." Farkas says. "Do you want me to?"

Libby hadn't realized she shut her eyes, the back of her one hand covering her mouth. She opens her eyes and finds Farkas towering over her, the sapphire of his eyes is filled with wicked lust that makes her heart skip.

Slowly, the assassin nods her head. "I am finally yours."

Farkas grins, Libby nearly changing her mind, but the second Farkas' lips are on her neck, his tongue licking along her jawline, all doubts and second thoughts are obliterated.

She can feel everything as Farkas's skilled fingers start to unbutton her pants and with a hard yank, both they and her underwear are gone; her soft bum cradled by the mattress. All the while, Farkas' lips trail down her neck to his collarbone, and down to Libby's chest. Already the assassin can feel herself shaking, her body tingling and aching with sweet pleasure.

Then she feels Farkas' lip envelope her one nipple, and the other delicately pinched. Libby yelps, immediately covering her mouth with both hands. She can feel Farkas chuckle deeply.

"You're so cute, Libby." He growls.

She would've replied, but his lips start to kiss the V-line of Libby's hips and she ends up gripping the sheets. Their bodies start to gleam with sweat, Libby's breathing growing fast as she watches Farkas remove his pants.

Then there was only them, skin against skin, and when they reached that moment when there was nothing more between them at all, Libby kisses Farkas deeply and gives him everything she has.

Gods, the feeling was so . . . incredible. Why would she have waited for something like this for so long?

Their bodies are gleaming with sweat and they're sticking to each other, Libby claiming as much of him as he is claiming her. Slowly the world fades until its nothing but Libby, nothing but Farkas. The two of them . . . here, together.

And then she, as well as the world, are obliterated.

She can feel herself scattering into a million pieces, only to be pulled back together with slowly, erotic kisses. She nearly begs to him to stop when Farkas sexily licks across her neck and down to the space between her breasts.

Their breathing is both ragged, Libby can feel Farkas still hovering over her, not wanting to press his full weight on her. Farkas lips press to Libby's forehead, the assassin feeling self-conscious from the thin veil of sweat. "Libby," Farkas says breathlessly, his voice enough rile more of that sensation out of the assassin. "Thank you."

She rolls to the side and Libby immediately tries to move her legs, worried about how she'll be able to walk the next day. He bends his toes, stretches and retracts his legs, feeling a little heavier than usual.

"Are you okay?" Farkas asks.

Libby manages to nod her head, her mind clouded with the smell of fatigue, happiness and Farkas. Farkas doesn't bother to retrieve his clothes; instead, he props on one arm and reaches towards the head of the bed, pulling out the thin sheet. Libby follows the wave as the sheets comes and Farkas kicks off the comforter. Despite the autumn chill, her room is hot.

She manages to crawl towards her pillows while Farkas shimmies in between the mattress and the sheet. Farkas laughs when he sees Libby's goofy smile. "You look like you just smoked nine pipes of opium."

She would've slapped his arm, but she doesn't think she can move even her arms anymore. Farkas lies next to her, and Libby wriggles her way next to her, the tip of her nose near Farkas' collarbone. She breathes him in so she can mark this moment. Remember the smell of Farkas' body: mixture of his cologne and sweat and little hints of his clothes.

She feels Farkas' lips press into her hair and Libby smiles happily when she feels Farkas' arm wrap around her like a little protective cocoon. They lie there together, time seemingly passing by so quickly as the sun is already setting, almost nearing sunrise.

It's astonishing how easily one can lose track of time during such "fun." Even with the time growing short, they end up doing it one, two, three more times.

A couple hours after recovery, Libby was still half-awake, wanting to go to sleep but Farkas' sweet smell keeps her tethered to reality. But she knew Farkas was still awake, as she could feel Farkas constantly petting or stroking her head or back. The feeling nearly makes Libby purr like a kitten.

"I love you." she hears Farkas whisper.

Libby stiffens, but the happiness that courses through her makes her nearly giddy with the urge to bounce around the room. Still, she recovers by shifting slightly, making Farkas think she is still asleep.

Libby so badly wants to say it back – _I love you, too_ – but why doesn't she? Is she really so tired that she can't form a simple sentence? How long have they been lying here anyway? It only feels like minutes, though Libby knows it was probably hours.

She can feel the words clutching her throat, fighting for the way out, but the thought of having it turn into conversation makes Libby grow quiet. She can tell him in the morning.

Discreetly entangling their legs, Libby sighs. She closes her eyes and walks into the Land of Dreams with open arms.


	34. Chapter 33

Morning comes, pouring its light into Libby's chambers.

Like they had fallen asleep last night, Libby awakens, cocooned in Farkas' strong arms. Though this time they feel more relaxed than last night. Carefully wriggling to see his face, Libby nearly snorts when she sees a small bit of drool in the corner of his mouth. He snores softly, and Libby stirs, slipping out of his arms so not to disturb him.

Discreetly, she makes her way towards the bathroom, her bare feet padding along the cold tile. She had meant to grab her slippers, but she didn't want to get on her knees to look under the bed.

Her bathroom having a skylight, light illuminates its entirety and Libby looks into her mirror, gasping and giggling when she beholds the skin blemishes all along her neck. Moving her hair, they dominate across her right side, waning away towards her left. It almost looks like she was attacked by some animal – which, arguably in a way, she was.

Suppressing a grin – and failing – Libby carries on washing her face and showering, throwing on a thick cotton nightgown. She would've gone for the pink-silk nightgown with lace along the neckline, unfortunately, even she is at the mercy to the winter's cold. Besides, despite her wanting Farkas to see it, she doesn't have the time more some morning love-making.

Which reminds her, she'll have to talk to Sazami about a contraceptive.

She walks out of the bathroom braiding her hair, and looks to find Farkas still asleep. Once he feels her side is empty, he might awaken, but Libby decides to let him sleep. He knew where she will be going today. Libby just hopes Kodlak is there for her to tell.

Slipping from her chambers, Libby walks down the halls, the carpet doing little to warm her feet, but she's so jubilant right now that she doesn't care. She might even feel like hugging Diamond today. Diamond . . . As she descends the stairs, Libby feels a small pinch of longing in her heart. Oh how Diamond would _love_ to hear this. She always was one to be giddy when talking about love and romance.

They would sometimes spend nights up late just talking about why they were single, how they wanted someone by their side, to laugh with, to cuddle with, and to hold hands with –

She can't tell Diamond, not right now at this point. Once Kodlak is safe, and once Libby is sure Diamond will even bother to converse with her, perhaps then it'll be worth talking about.

As she passes her servants, Libby doesn't hide her mischievous smile when their eyes widen and their mouths agape, but widen with grins. A majority of her in-house servants are females anyway. And Libby's smile widens when she enters the kitchen and there is Sazami, cooking something that smells absolutely mouth-watering. The Khajiit turns to her and nearly spills the pan when she beholds Libby.

Thank the Divines she showered, what with her messed up hair from the night before, Sazami would've given her the tongue thrashing of a lifetime. Still the Khajiit woman looks to Libby with wide eyes and then her lips flatten into a thin line, but the corners of her mouth are still upturned.

Libby shrugs her shoulders as she proceeds to take a seat at one of the stools posted in front of the kitchen island. A Dunmer servant – Dralelle, comes over and gives Libby a freshly brewed cup of tea. She spares Libby a grin before sauntering off.

"I had to have some form of celebration for myself." Libby speaks as she stirs in some honey.

"And it would seem like you didn't hold yourself back from a good time." Dralelle says with a hand on her hip. Sazami hisses, and Dralelle looks to her. "What? She's open to talk about it."

Sazami shakes her head. "Child, all I ask is that you be cautious. And don't go walking around like that! Your neck looks like you got bitten by a Sabre Cat."

"I guess you could say in a way I was." Libby giggles and Dralelle snorts. Dralelle walks around to the other side of the island and gathers a couple of fruits and begins cutting. "And also, I need to talk to you."

"I'm sure you do." Sazami grumbles, but still there was a hint of a smile. "Just please find something to cover your neck!"

"Why? I mean I'm surprised he's not strutting round boasting. I mean I certainly would if I had tumbled me."

That makes both of the servants chuckle.

"Does your love for yourself have no bounds?"

The two servants jump and all heads turn to see Farkas leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, his trousers around his hips.

"Absolutely none." Libby smiles as she hops down from her seat and practically skips her way over to Farkas, giddy like a child in a candy store. She hugs her arms around his neck and giggles stupidly as she kisses his lips. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?" Libby asks as she takes Farkas' hand and leads him further into the kitchen.

"No, I just woke up and saw you were gone, and that I had smelt something amazing cooking." Farkas smiles towards Sazami as she continues to stir-fry something in the pan.

They two sit down and Libby kisses his cheek again, Farkas turning and pecking a kiss on their lips. "Did you want something to drink before we eat?" Libby asks, readying to stand from her seat.

"If it's not too much trouble I'd like some tea."

Libby is about to get up when Sazami speaks up. "Child, sit down. We'll take care of it."

"Are you sure I can't help?"

Sazami smiles and chuckles. "We'll be fine."

Dralelle goes over to the cabinets and grabs some flatware and utensils, setting them on the counter next to Sazami. She then proceeds to pour Farkas a cup of tea, flavoring it with a blueberry teabag. When she gives it to Farkas, he looks to Libby and the two of them clink their cups.

"Well at least you look as bad as me." Libby says as she sips. Farkas looks in the reflection of a fork and finds his neck equally as bruised, trailing down to his collarbone. "Now we're even."

Farkas grins and Libby squeaks, hopping in her seat when she feel his hand smack her bum. At least quiet enough that Sazami and Dralelle didn't hear. She bats his hand away, pouting as Dralelle sets a full plate down in front of her.

"So what are we going to be about the Companions?" Libby asks.

Farkas sighs as he finishes a sip of tea. "We can't tell Vilkas, I'm sorry. I know he'll figure it out, but I don't want to tell him upfront."

"Okay." Libby says as she stuffs a piece of a chocolate chip pancake.

She feels Farkas take her hand, and she looks to him, wiping her mouth. "Please don't think of this as me being ashamed with this. I just want to avoid getting the lecture on separating business from pleasure."

"Oh come on." Libby rolls her eyes. "They have to give us some credit. We know how to be professional." Farkas nods. "And just think, all that holding back when we're in public can be released when we get home." Libby purrs.

Farkas moans at her voice, pecking her lips once again before Sazami sets his plate in front of him. "So, how does it feel to be a free woman?" He asks as he peppers his eggs. "Now that it's at least sunk in."

Libby pauses. "I mean, it feels – different, of course. And now that I've taken a day. I'm just so . . . happy. I think I'm actually happy. Now I just wonder how long it'll last."

"For as long as we can make it." Farkas says as he leans in. Libby giggles and quickly swallows another piece of pancake before she kisses Farkas again.

They manage to make it through the rest of breakfast respectfully, though Libby tends to make Farkas pay for the times he slid his hand up her thigh underneath the counter. She speaks with Sazami about the contraceptive, and after a sigh and a shake of the head from the Khajiit, she agreed. Libby hopped and clapped, hugging her beloved Khajiit.

When she makes it back upstairs, she finds Farkas flopped in bed, his head buried in one of the pillows. Libby giggles as she approaches the bed, not bothering to be quiet. She climbs up atop of Farkas, kissing his bare back, trailing up to his neck. Farkas moans and adjusts slightly. His eyes blink open and he smiles. "Can't we just stay in bed all day?"

His arm then reaches up and wraps around Libby's shoulders. She squeals and laughs as he brings her down next to him, and pulling her pressed against his body. Libby tries to wriggle and Farkas holds her. "Farkas, I have to go to Jorrvaskr!" Libby giggles, her laughter being music to his ears.

"No." he says bluntly. Libby laughs even more as Farkas kisses her forehead. "You're to stay here with me."

"And since when are you to give me orders?"

"Since I learned how 'submissive' you can be." Farkas says, his voice low and gruff. Seductive.

Libby shivers, her cheeks growing warm. She smacks his arm and Farkas gives her one more kiss before letting her go. "You're more than welcome to stay." She says as she slips from his arms. "But I need to speak to Kodlak, and I promised Nassari I'd take her for a ride outside of Whiterun."

"How has the princess been?"

Libby shrugs as she slides her feet into her slippers. "She's doing well. She seems to be handling the assassination attempt well. And we've been training together too."

"She knows how to fight?"

"Princess or not, learning how to fight is essential." Libby insists as she disappears into her dressing room.

Farkas continues to keep his eyes on her, even as she strips out of her nightgown, exposing her bare back. Briefly, his chest feels heavy at the sight of the scars that cover her back. It still astonishes him to think, to picture Libby being whipped in Cidhna Mines. During their intimacy last night, he promised himself again and again that he would travel to Markarth and rip that gods' damned mine down stone by stone. The thought makes him smile.

Libby slips a white band around her breasts before slipping into a lovely mint-green tunic with intricate detailing along the cuffs. Then it's a _very_ tempting black lace undergarment before it's covered by tan-colored trousers and leather snow boots. As she emerges, she undoes her braid, letting her hair fall into ebony waves.

"I think I'm pretty much done with this winter. Any more snow and I'm sure I will go mad." Libby says. "Apart from Julmas, winter has become my least favorite season."

Farkas swallows tightly, knowing Libby has to be referring to the winter times when in Cidhna Mines. The place has to be undoubtedly cold – the number in death counts rising at least by half. He doesn't know if they were the lucky ones, and it also explains why Libby has so many thick blankets layering her bed. Farkas had to throw at least two off of his side his body was sweating so much.

Farkas watches as she preps herself with a belt of daggers, a sword, and an intimidating Daedric bow slinging across her back. Her hair layering her quiver of ebony arrows. "Come and stop by if you like. The days are drawing short until Diamond and I have to travel to Glenmoril Coven."

"That's right. You're searching for a cure for Kodlak."

"I'm already questioning if it's worth it. But for Kodlak . . ." Libby drifts off and Farkas takes her hand. Libby smiles sadly and leans in to kiss him. "Alright. I've got to go."

Farkas groans but Libby gives him one last peck on the forehead before she leaves her chambers. Trotting down to Jorrvaskr, Libby tries to think of an explanation that won't have the Companions springing at her, ready to spill her throat onto the floor. Not that she can't take them, but she'd like to end this without bloodshed.

Another blanket of snow has lied over Whiterun, making her bloodred cloak stand out even more that if in the springtime. Carefully adjusting her snow boots, Libby grips the front of her cloak and snuggles into herself as she walks.

Despite herself, Libby feels more self-conscious than normal. She doesn't normally wear such, contrasting colors, especially in the winter, so this red cloak makes her feel more like someone suspicious than her usual black and blues. Still, a part of her loves the gazes she steals from both men and women. The hall comes into view, its large torch bowls still burning fiercely against the cold.

Walking into the hall, she's grown used to the sight of seeing nearly everyone seated at the table with Kodlak at the middle. Her heart thumps slightly as she sees Diamond, as it has for every other time she's seen Diamond. Of course heads turn as the door opens, and when some behold her, they simply return to their objectives. Kodlak, who Diamond is sitting next to, notices her and smiles. Libby returns the smile, taking off her cloak and hanging it on the rack.

"Good morning Libitania." Kodlak chimes. Diamond looks over to her, but she doesn't react, at least not as bitterly as she did before.

"Morning Kodlak." Libby says as she takes the next available seat.

"How are you?"

"I'm fine." Libby sighs, and suddenly her lips can't stop from smiling.

Diamond is the first to narrow her eyes at Libby, and Kodlak looks to Libby and grins. "Well, that's something I'm not used to seeing." He chuckles. "What makes you in such a good moon, Libitania?"

"Well it's actually what I wanted to talk to you about." Libby says.

Kodlak looks to her with narrowing eyes. "Do you wish to speak privately?"

"No, I believed we should, but I think this is something I need to explain with the rest of the Companions." Libby says, taking notice of Diamond leaning out to hear more of the conversation.

Libby takes a breath as she looks to Kodlak, already unable to fight the smile on her face.

"I managed to pay off my client. I'm free." She sighs.

Kodlak looks to her and Diamond jerks her head up from her plate, half of a sweet roll stuffed in her mouth. Kodlak's eyes widen and his mouth gapes. "You . . .?"

Libby nods and Kodlak drops his utensils and stands, congratulations pouring from his lips. Libby rises, giggling as she embraces Kodlak, taking in the scent of his hair. "Oh congratulations Libitania! That is wonderful!"

"What's going on?" Aela asks.

Libby releases Kodlak. "I've managed to pay off my debt to my client and, to the rest of Skyrim."

Eyes widen and Ria speaks up. "You paid off _all_ of Skyrim?"

Libby lifts her chin and squares her shoulders in fraudulent arrogance. "I am Skyrim's Assassin, I can do anything." It would've been insulting had Libby not genuinely smiled. But quickly she clears her throat. "However, there is a bit of a problem." She pulls Kodlak back down to his seat. "My client didn't take my resignation, or the five hundred thousand gold coins, very well."

Kodlak looks to her, eyes wide at the mention of the price she had mentioned.

"I'm afraid that he'll be targeting the Companions as retribution. And I'm worried that he will target you, Kodlak. I just wanted to warn you."

"Who, might I ask, is so influential that they think they can just send out some pathetic bandits to harm our Harbinger?" Vilkas asks as he rises from his seat.

Libby looks to Kodlak, biting her lip. He doesn't encourage her to speak, merely a raise of his eyebrows giving her the choice. Diamond is behind him, her face serious and a hand too close to the dagger at her waist. Libby sighs through her nose.

"Prince Joric of Morthal."

Eyes widen and heads turn to one another, whispers and mumbling about. Kodlak looks to Diamond who only sighs through her nose. Kodlak looks to Libby. "I probably should have seen that. Who else could afford the payment of Skyrim's Assassin. I expected his vengeance sooner or later."

"I understand that you didn't accept him into the Companions, and he want you all dead, at least that's all he gave me for a briefing." Libby says.

Kodlak nods. "Yes, I sensed a darkness in his heart. And I feared the worse would come if he heard of our beast blood. I couldn't imagine what he would've done with that power."

"I can't guarantee how long he'll be after you, but I wanted to let you know."

"Thank you, Libitania. I appreciate it."

"Kodlak," Aela chimes. "Perhaps we should start doing guard patrols around Jorrvaskr. The prince might seek the help of the Silver Blood, or perhaps another assassin."

"What other assassin could he possibly chose?" Torvar says, peering into his near empty mug of ale. "He's already lost the greatest assassin in Skyrim, who else can he get? No one bests the best."

"Torvar, if there's one thing I've always tried to teach you, it is to never underestimate your opponent. Which is why I find it even more insulting that you all think you have to go to such measures to keep me safe." Kodlak says as he rises from his seat. "I may be old, but I'm still a warrior."

"Of course we meant no disrespect, Kodlak," says Vilkas. "We're just worried about you."

Kodlak chuckles. "I can feel the love in your hearts, and I am truly thankful. So I am willing to allow your patrols, if it makes you all feel better."

"Also Kodlak, I'll be gone for a couple of weeks to go on my mission for that Stormcloak solider."

"I'll be back in a couple of days. It won't take long." Libby says as she rises from the table.

"When is your departure?" Kodlak asks.

"I'll be leaving tomorrow."

Kodlak nods. "Very well."

Libby smiles and rises from her seat, heading to the front doors and grabbing her cloak. Diamond watches her as she wraps her cloak around herself and leaves the hall. No one says anything as Diamond rises from her seat and quickly snatches a fur-lined jacket before following Libby out of the door.

Stepping out into the cold, chills immediately run along her entire body, but she easily spots Libby – that deep red cloak of hers making her stand out like a sore thumb. How did she get so far so quickly? Diamond hurries her steps, reminding herself not to try and startle Libby. No doubt she has a hidden dagger somewhere in that cloak of hers. Diamond almost wants to call out to her, but remembers Libby is still undercover.

Her footsteps gave her away because Libby turns well before Diamond can make it three feet to her. As Diamond comes closer, Libby takes a couple steps back, her face placid. When she stops to catch her breath, she notices how Libby still keeps a safe four feet of space between them. Does she really think Diamond will just attack her? It's rude, and it kind of hurts, but then again, Diamond's behavior hasn't proven otherwise.

Libby doesn't say anything as Diamond inhales quickly so she can speak. Unfortunately, she still can't catch her breath fast enough.

"Come to chew me out, have you?" Libby asks coolly.

"Of course I'm going to be upset with you."

"Why would you be? At least I was kind enough to warn Kodlak of the prince's impending tantrum."

"If it weren't for you, he wouldn't even _be_ targeted." Diamond snaps as she stuffs her hands in her pockets.

"So you would rather _I_ kill Kodlak then?"

"It's just not fair!" Diamond exclaims. "I finally find a promising home for myself, and you just come in and ruin everything! It's like no matter what you do, you always manage to spread death and suffering upon others. And I'll be damned if I let you ruin this again for me."

Even with the pain in her chest as her words cut through the trickle of snow falling, Diamond stares Libby down.

There. They were out. The words that she's been dying to say to Libby since upon her arrival – no, since the night Zusa had revealed to her about Libby's betrayal as well as everything else. Libby had obtained in the name of the Faceless.

Libby stares right back, her face growing unnervingly cold.

She takes a step closer. "I don't expect you believe me Diamond, but I didn't have a choice. I was desperate. And do I regret it, of course I do! I'd sooner endure the mines again before I _ever_ crawl back to that bitch! But mark these words, Diamond: if I could kill the prince or Zusa, I would've. But I had just gained back my freedom." She turns away from Diamond. "You may resent my decisions, but there are some things in this world that I, even as an assassin, am powerless against." She starts to walk.

"And what if he doesn't? I was there when he came to train, and he's pretty spoiled as they can get."

"I can promise you, the next time me we meet, I won't hesitate. It will be his undoing." Libby starts to walk.

"Since when did you come to care so much about Kodlak?" Diamond asks as she starts to follow Libby. "About two months ago you were so willing to chop of his head."

Keeping her hands in her pockets, Diamond matches Libby's pace. Though for some reason that red cloak makes her a little uneasy against the white beneath and all around them.

With the hood outlining her head, Diamond watches Libby turn her head downward. "Because I was being selfish." She mumbles, her words almost lost in the soft wind. "I was so bent on gaining back my freedom, to be liberated of by debt, of my burdens and of my duties that it was the only thing I was focused on. That and it was possibly fear."

Diamond looks up to her. Even after three years, even after Libby going through starvation and whippings, she's still taller than Diamond. In a weird way, this is the first walk they've taken together since . . .

She should go back to the hall. Why did she even follow Libby out here anyway? Yeah she was upset for Libby putting Kodlak's life in danger, but at the same time, her anger isn't justified, as Libby didn't do it intentionally. All she wanted to do was free herself from the psychotic prince, and now Kodlak is caught in the crossfire.

"The fear of him sending me back to Cidhna Mines . . . of having to go back to that place . . . it was scary beyond belief. I thought I knew what fear was, but it still makes me quake." Diamond looks to Libby's hands, and even with expensive looking leather gloves, they are indeed quivering. "Even now, even when taking into consideration about the prince' retributions, I still had little care for the lives of others as I was so bent on paying him back. And now he's targeting Kodlak because of me."

Diamond stay quiet. During Libby's first year at the mines, after six months she snapped and left the bloodiest carnage to be put on record, narrowly escaping had it not been for some guard knocking her unconscious. Let alone the people _in _the mines: Nords, Imperials, Orcs, all members of the Forsworn – a powerful group of bandits who claim the reach is their home.

Libby took them all down, prisoner and guard alike, they were nothing more than things standing in her way of the death that had beckoned her. To think that Libby practically committed suicide . . . she never thought Libby's mind would travel to that extent. Diamond shivers.

"What did you come out here for anyway? It couldn't have been to simply escort me back to my home." Libby says.

Diamond's cheeks flush red, and of course, she doesn't have an answer. This whole time Libby's been here, she's done nothing but scorn the assassin. She didn't even want to be in the same room as Libby, and now . . . things have changed, things seem calmer, but there's still a lingering disdain that is as palpable as the snow. They both can sense it, yet Libby doesn't stray her away, and it wasn't the first thing Diamond did after saying what was on her mind.

Diamond stops her steps and Libby goes two more ahead before stopping and turning around. "I just got distracted from trying to chew you up." She sasses.

Libby smiles, even giving a feminine giggle. More warmth floods Diamond's cheeks. "Well still, I appreciate you walking me home."

Without another word she turns away, and Diamond looks up and sees the black gates and gravel path leading up to Libby's front door. That large fountain foaming over with snow. Unable to say anything back, and with the gate already closed, Diamond makes her way back to Jorrvaskr.

Embarrassment fuels her through the snow, though thankfully she has the snow to blame for her red cheeks. When she reaches the Cloud District, the Gildergreen has finally submitted to the winter's cold, shedding its petals which now litter the pergola floor. Diamond stops as she stares at the bare branches.

She remembers when they came to Whiterun, after barely escaping Helgen with their lives. While Libby was delivering news to Jarl Balgruuf, Diamond took it upon herself to climb the Gildergreen because she loved the color of the pink petals. Then some guards started to reprimand her, and Diamond just kept insisting it was just a tree. Back then she didn't know it was a sacred symbol to Kynareth. Libby had to bail her out, and the two of them did get into a bit of a spat. Only now will Diamond admit that it was her fault.

But it was still just a tree!

Okay, fine – admittedly, she did miss Libby to a degree. She missed walking with her, shopping with her, she missed being girly with Libby, she missed their bar fights (of which they always won.)

But there's still a part of her that can't forgive Libby, and it's because she still hasn't said the words she's sorry. And that leaves Diamond to believe that Libby isn't sorry for everything she did. Why would she refrain from apologizing? Or, well . . . okay, maybe Diamond's behavior wasn't very encouraging.

Despite herself, she'll have to try and be more open if she wants that apology. Or wait. . _Want_? Why would she want it?

_Because you miss her_.

Diamond whirls around, wondering where the voice came from. She finds no one. Maybe it was just her own voice, maybe it was common sense, or perhaps Kodlak disguised as common sense. Kodlak must've finally gotten into her head about amending the past.

Gods dammit.

Diamond pops the collar of her jacket up to her ears and makes her way back to the hall. Maybe she can figure this all out while Libby is away on her mission. Even that makes her a little bit jealous that she can go on her own mission. It took Diamond months, close to two years just to go on her mission by herself.

Diamond just snuggles into her jacket and keeps an eye out for the hall.

Wait, this jacket . . . it smells familiar. The hall comes into sight, and while her feet keep moving, her hands fumble on the inside, trying to find the means to prove it's not the jacket she thinks it is.

She pushes through the door and some of the members of the Circle are still sitting, other possibly out back practicing despite the weather. Figuring there was no point now, Diamond shrugs off the jacket and hangs it on the rack.

"Diamond," Vilkas' voice chimes. As if by instinct, she cringes, biting her bottom lip and turns to the table. Of course he's sitting there, a little bit of a smug on his lips. "Would you mind hanging my jacket over a bucket, I don't want to ruin the floors."

Red. That's the only color she sees and that she feels as her cheeks flare up and her body ripples with embarrassment.

Folding in her lips, Diamond simply blinks and inhales as she makes her way down to the living quarters. Gracefully, she looks all around when she enters the room and finds no one. She flops down into one of the available beds.

Stuffing her face into the pillow, Diamond screams.

Through the four days that pass, the Companions each take turn guarding Jorrvaskr night and day keeping an eye out for the shadows and for any suspicious characters around Whiterun. Farkas returned moments after Libby had left after warning the Companions, looking rather . . . glowing, refreshed. And he seemed to be in the greatest mood anyone had ever seen him.

Libby soon left for her mission to hunt down the Stormcloak responsible for the assassination attempt on Nassari. She had been gone for at least four to five days, (all the while Farkas seemed rather displeased of her absence, but he still seemed to be happy enough to smile around the hall.

When Libby returned at last on the new year of Morning Star, her clothes darkened and smeared with blood, and a wicked smile on her face. She didn't say anything except that she had a _very_ satisfied smile on her face. After a shower and well needed nap, Libby explained in probably too much detail on how she hunted down the solider and tortured him in front of the rest of the camp after she rendered them to her will. She then left his head on a pike of the general's tent with words to never aim for Nassari again.

When she returned to Jorrvaskr, she opted to join the Companions in patrolling in and around the hall. When she stepped into the shadows with her Nightingale uniform, and when she practically vanished, it was a mutual agreement it was more than impressive. Even with the large fire pit in the center of the dining room, she was able to hide in the tiniest of shadows.

Now Kodlak is sitting out on the back porch, Libby having gone with Aela to patrol around Whiterun while Farkas and Diamond rest. Leaving Torvar and Vilkas to watch Kodlak as he wanted to sit outside to watch the snow fall.

The two warriors stand on either side of him, arms folded. Kodlak simply sits back in his chair, sipping at the cup of tea steaming with Libby's brew – that she was so kind enough to give him the recipe.

Wrapped in a rabbit-fur cloak, he can't help but gaze up at the stars, at the full moon bathing the entire valley beyond the brick wall and watch tower in the courtyard. He leans back, the chair beneath him creaking. "It's a wonderful night." He says.

"I'm surprised you wanted to sit out here, Master. It's not exactly proper weather to be stargazing." Vilkas says.

"I'd probably be warmer with a belly full of mead." Torvar grunts as she stretches out. Vilkas shoots him a glare, but Torvar only shrugs again.

"I can't help it, my young cubs. I've been cooped up in that hall for the past few weeks. Even I get tired of the smell of sweat and mead." Kodlak chuckles.

"Forgive us if we have been intruding, Kodlak," Vilkas says, crossing his one arm over his heart. "We're just trying to protect you."

"I'm afraid you're only delaying the inevitable, my young cubs. My life is in the hands of the Gods, and should they need me, they will take me, whenever, and however they may please."

"Perhaps, but we can have a say in _how_ they may take you." Vilkas sighs. "I'd rather find you peacefully laying in your bed than to find you in pieces scattered across the stone."

"Oh, but then where's the fun in that? And what if the Gods do not approve of my departure?" Kodlak chuckles.

"Your years of battle should serve you well, Kodlak." Vilkas says, managing a smile. "They could never deny a warrior like you."

"Unless I bear the blood of the beast." Kodlak mumbles. He takes another sip of his tea, humming with a smile. Libby really did make this tea rather well, and she wasn't lying when she said how the ingredients are hard to come by. The only way he was able to make it was because she gave him all of its ingredients to last him a handful of months.

"No offense, Kodlak, sir," Torvar then says, "But how much longer do you plan on being out here? Even with this cloak, I can't seem to feel my hands."

"I told you to keep them under your arms." Vilkas snaps.

"I did, I swore they might've stuck to my skin."

Kodlak chuckles and looks to Torvar. "You may go inside if you wish. Perhaps Farkas or Diamond could take over. If not, that is fine."

Torvar bows to the Harbinger. "Thank you, Harbinger."

He heads inside, leaving Vilkas and Kodlak alone with the falling snow and the chill of the night as the wind coursed it through Whiterun. There is a comfortable silence, Kodlak can't helping but to smile. When was the last time he had felt this tranquil? He's been so wrapped up in his own thoughts and commissions that he almost forgot to enjoy the life that the gods have given him.

"Every time I look into the shadows, I can't help but wonder if it's Libitania, or if it's the bandits. I wish she would return by now with Aela." Vilkas says.

"They'll be back. It doesn't take those two long to get things done. With Libby's skill combined with Aela's, no stone in this city will be overlooked." Kodlak smiles.

"If I may, Master," Vilkas says, pushing off of the wooden post and turning to the Harbinger. "Why _did_ you bother to let her in the group? We all knew she was the one who had given you those bruises, and yet with her sour attitude – at first – and the dagner that she halos, you still let her in. It was rather out of character or you."

Kodlak sighs, his gaze never leaving the horizon. Sometimes he wishes they would just open a hole in this gods-damned wall. "I would love to tell you, Vilkas. It would make me the happiest I've ever been to tell you. But I'm afraid I cannot."

"Why?"

"Because you are not ready. As old as that may be, it is the truth, and I am sorry."

From the moment he set eyes on her, he knew what she was, and what she was capable of doing. She might've tried to hide it – might still try to hide it – but it was from the moment he looked into her eyes, there was no denying. He logged it in his journal, and perhaps when he feels it is time, he will expose its contents.

But what Vilkas doesn't know is that it all depends on when _Diamond_ is ready.

He can't believe she shared a friendship with Libitania for all those years and never knew. Perhaps Libby's secret of the Faceless was more of her own way of preventing Diamond from ever knowing. And when he recaps everything that had happened to her, it fills his heart with unbridled joy that Libitania can still smile. She went to a _death camp_, and she can still smile.

The poor girl. Libitania has suffered so much, and perhaps she was only trying to protect Diamond. He knew the feeling. Kodlak chuckles. At least he can tell Diamond is starting to warm up to Libitania again. He could easily see that light that was their kinship still shining inside the two girls.

A bond that, despite years of pain, suffering and troubles, it still refused to go out. Even if the girls can't see it, even if they can't feel it, it's there.

They are like two lost souls that had found each other, only to be strayed by secrets cloaked as love. Libitania loved Diamond enough to push her away, and despite the pain she feels now, both Kodlak and Libtiania knew it was for the best. He was grateful that she was willing to be honest with him, after he was honest with her. He's even more surprised she didn't cut his throat when he spoke.

Diamond is still young. And Kodlak could see the fear in Libitania's eyes when it came to talking with Diamond. Even he was tempted to smack Diamond several times because of her stubbornness, but it was also one of the reasons why he loved her. The time will come, and it will come soon.

He only hopes that the girls will both find their way back this time.

"There are some things in this world that I, as your Harbinger am compelled to keep from you until you are ready." He says.

"What is so special about her?" Vilkas asks taking a seat in the next available chair. "She's just an assassin."

Kodlak chuckles. "Many things, Vilkas. Many things."

Vilkas sighs, clicking his tongue and rising from his seat. He looks all around, blowing into his hands and rubbing them together to war them up. He looks past the wall and out to the valley beyond.

He turns to Kodlak, about to say something else, when he stops.

Kodlak must feel it to, because Vilkas sets his hand on the hilt of his sword and begins to pace around the porch.

"What is it?" Kodlak asks, setting aside his cup and saucer.

"Stay close, Kodlak." Vilkas orders, a part of him feeling weird ordering around his successor. His eyes scan the shadows, listening to Kodlak's footsteps as he approaches. His wolf eyes scan the darkness, only smelling that of small animals, and the remains of what someone at for dinner. Grunting and growling in annoyance, Vilkas turns back to Kodlak, setting a hand on his shoulder.

"Alright, I think it's time to go ins–"

_BOOM!_ A large ball of light crashes into Vilkas' chest and he's sent flying back into the wall.

"Vilkas!"

He hits the brick, creating a small crater from the impact, then sliding to the floor. Kodlak chases after him, unaware of the rope that he steps into, tightening around his ankle. He looks and finds it leading towards the large pocket of shadows inhabiting the watchtower. Kodlak gasps as they rope starts to pull him towards the darkness. His heart speeds up.

He sits himself down trying, pulling out a dagger to try and saw at the rope, but a shadow moves out of the corner of his eye. His reflexes are too slow, and he gains a punch to the right cheek, then to the left. His grip on his dagger loosens and someone kicks it out of his hand. He begins to wheeze, gasping desperately as someone jabs their elbow in his throat, making him unable to shout for help. Another blow straight to his gut and Kodlak is rendered helpless, doubling over to try and regain his air.

He still struggles, trying to call out to the Companions as best he can with his now rustic voice. The shadows come closer as he starts to get dragged closer and closer.

Vilkas rises, grabbing his broadsword. "Kodlak!"

He charges for the Harbinger, sword ready, but suddenly pain crackles his jaw as he feels a strong uppercut. Then his skull aches as he feels a strong punch hit his left cheek, then his chest, then right, then left and in his sternum. He could practically feel the magic behind the punches as each blow felt different. One had his left cheek on fire, the other one leaving his abdomen as cold as the snow soaking his boots.

The punches render him to the ground, blood dripping from his lip and crooked nose. These aren't like the Silver-Hand he's used to. They're more, blunt, forward. This king of sneaking, and ingenuous tactic to try and separate him from Kodlak – it almost seemed too . . . smart for them.

"Trying to stop us is pathetic." A female voice says. Vilkas growls as she practically hears the smile on her lips. "We're taking your Harbinger."

Vilkas looks up and can only see the silhouette of the woman, her hands glowing with a calming yellow, but her form is intimidating. Surrounding him are two more shadows, male, and Vilkas can tell they wear the armor of the Silver-Hand, but he's still baffled as they are not usually this clever. Vilkas slowly rises to his feet.

"He's not going anywhere!" With a roar and a fissures of pain rippling along his limbs, Vilkas transforms into his wolf form. He roars loudly, his care and caution gone out the widow the moment he saw Kodlak getting dragged to shadows. Of which he still is. He needs to work quickly.

Immediately his dance with the Silver-Hand begins, and his claws clang against iron and metal. He already knew of the silver swords that are effective against werewolves, but he didn't give an inch of a care when he felt the burning on his arms. All he cared about was gutting them up and saving Kodlak. But the three are proving to be better opponents that he thought. They block his blows, his swipes and his bites, dancing around him like Hagravens performing a ritual.

Meanwhile Kodlak struggles to find a grip on the ground as the shadows loom closer. The snow soaks his armor and pools through, reaching his bare skin. He pulls another dagger from his belt and shoots it at the darkness. He hears a brief cling of metal against metal and watches the dagger ricochet off out of the shadows and into the bushes.

He readies himself to try and turn, but then he feels a sharp poke in his neck and he screams. He can feel something pool inside his neck, spreading out to the rest of his body. It almost feels like a mold as he can detect his wolf form almost, freezing in place. It holds together inside of him, and suddenly he can't shift.

He tries, but it only results in bad, bad, _bad _pain – like he can feel the form trying to break past his human skin, but something is holding it back.

"Give us some credit old man," a male voice barks. "We've been watching you for some time, and we got some new help."

_New help_ . . .? _What could he_ –?

There's a harsh punch to his face and Kodlak's world goes black.

"We've got the old man! Let's move!" the ma calls to the trio fighting Vilkas.

Vilkas swipes at another Silver-Hand, blocked of course, before looking over to see Kodlak draped over the shoulder of another silhouetted man. He growls and suddenly his anger boils over. He roars, but the Silver-Hand waste no time and there's another dropkick to his neck. Vilkas stumbles back and receives another kick to his stomach. The snow does so little to ice his aching – everything.

There's the feeling of a needle poking his throat and Vilkas roars. His roar deflates into his scream as a human. He feels his skin shrinking, his senses dulling as he's dropped to his knees. The needle is pulled out, and Vilkas grips his neck. His eyes open and his vision is blurry, but he can still see the two heading out with Kodlak.

He tries to stand, but a female shadow moves in front of him and Vilkas only looks up to her before her punch knocks him unconscious.


	35. Chapter 34

Warriors rush to Jorrvaskr.

They flood the courtyard left right up and down. Diamond rushed out of the hall, few Companions evenly spread out around the sides, and Libitania lands on the roof of the hall, leaping down into the courtyard to find Farkas kneeling next to Vilkas, whose head is in his hands, possible tears in his eyes and with red cheeks.

Libby hops down just in time to hear Diamond start her yelling, quickly elevating to screaming at Vilkas. "This is all your fault you were supposed to protect him! How could the Silver-Hands take him?!"

"That's not really fair Diamond, I was outside too." Torvar confesses.

"There's a difference, Torvar. Kodlak _let_ you go inside after you asked." Diamond whirls to Vilkas. "But you, you were supposed to protect him! How could you let the Silver-Hand take him! And you say you loved him." she hisses.

"Diamond!" Farkas barks, growling as Vilkas shakes his head.

Diamond steps back, taking a deep a breath, exhaling heavily before pinching the bridge of her nose. Though she doesn't take back what she said. While the Companions try to think of some plan, Libby looks to her right to where there are drag marks in the snow apart from the multiple footprints and spots of blood and Vilkas' wolfprints. The sees the thin line of where a rope must've snatched Kodlak, leading all the way into the small watchtower viewing booth.

She's about to walk over when a small tingle in her mind makes her turn to the Companies. Vilkas and Farkas' eyes are on her. "Something I can help you with?"

Vilkas takes another deep breath before rising from the snow. "We've had a history with the Silver-Hand; enough that we know their movements. They're not very bright, or smart –"

"Yet somehow they managed to get past you." Diamond interjects.

Vilkas softly growls but continues. "But this time, their plan was thought out, and they were organized."

"How dare you . . ." Libby says deeply, her mask making her voice sound like that of a demon.

"And I had overheard them saying they had gotten new help. What else could that mean?"

"It means that you've been beaten out of your senses and aren't thinking clearly." Libby growls, taking a step closer and daringly putting a hand on her sword. "If I wanted Kodlak dead, all this time I've spent with your 'warriors' wouldn't even matter. I don't need the help of some pathetic bandit clan to take down your Harbinger. And if that were the case why would I even bother to warn Kodlak in the first place?!"

"Because you're an assassin!" Vilkas shouts. "You're a _creature_ of manipulation and deception. When you're not with us, I find it hard to believe that you're just cooped up in your luxurious mansion doing nothing. Where do you go? What do you do?"

"It's none of your business!"

"And yet you ask us to trust you?"

"_Enough_!" Farkas shouts, his voice booming across the courtyard and making some of the members flinch. He steps in front of Libby, his face stern. "Vilkas, I can attest for her. I'm with her almost every single day."

"And what about the days when you're not, Farkas? What do you think she's doing when you're not sharing her bed?"

"She's in her library enjoying a good read." Farkas continues even when Vilkas rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "I know for a fact that these days she doesn't leave her house because she has missed her luxuries after _three years_ of torture and whippings from slavery! Wouldn't you want a nice soft mattress to cradle your back scars?"

Libby walks up to Farkas, placing a hand on his arm and lacing their hands together. Libby gives the slightest tug, but Diamond watches as Farkas' shoulder deflate and he follows her lead. He looks to her and she gives a ghost of a smile. The way he stares into her eyes . . .

"I can also defend her, Vilkas." Aela chimes. All heads turn to the huntress. "I had Libitania's scent the entire time while she scoured the rooftops. She never left my sight and she never left in general."

"There's still when she left to go and scour for that Stormcloak. Who knows what she could've met."

"You never give up do you, you stubborn bastard." Libby spits. She then turns to the rest of the group. "This isn't even supposed to be about me. This is about getting Kodlak back, the more time you waist arguing about me, who knows what they could be doing to him?"

Diamond's stomach sink and Libby looks to her. Libby sighs through her nose. The two girls blink and look away, coughing or clearing their throats.

"We need to find out where they've taken him." Njada says.

"Knowing the Silver-Hand, it has to be in some cave or something." Athis adds.

Libby looks back to the rope lining in the snow, looking at the different sized footprints. She takes a couple steps towards the watchtower. There's something in the snow, and when she turns back to the Companies, she finds them already looking at her. Libby swallows and looks back and forth. "Why are you all looking at me?"

"Well you see Libby," Ria says. "it's just you're kind of the expert at tracking people. Maybe you could help us?"

Libby folds her lips in, running her tongue across her front teeth. "Give me a minute."

She then turns back to the watchtower, she grips her hand tightly, then opens her fingers to reveal a soft, halo light. She holds it close, chasing away the shadows. Kneeling down, carefully not to get her knee into the snow, she looks inside. Brows knotting, she scans the spot in the snow. "Come here!" she calls.

Farkas, Aela, Vilkas and Diamond come on over and Libby points to a small imprint in the snow. "Look at this," she points at the spot where there's a small outline lacking snow, enough to reveal the cobblestone beneath. "This spot here doesn't have much snow in it."

"Okay, why is that important?" asks Aela

"Well, according to that line in the snow, Kodlak was snatched by a rope. Right Vilkas?" the Companion nods. "So whoever had the rope was waiting here. But with there being so little snow in this area . . ."

"It means he was waiting there long enough before it even started to snow." Diamond finishes.

"Exactly. He must've been waiting here for hours, just listening, waiting." Libby finishes. She rises up, the glow on her hands fading, and goes back out to the courtyard. "Judging from the size of the footprints, there were at least four total: three males and a female." Libby sniffs the air and kneels down, carefully scanning the snow. She carefully braises her fingers along the snow's surface in the area where Vilkas had his fight. "You smell that?"

Farkas leans closer, smelling the tips of her fingers. "It smells, like something sweet that got burned."

"Exactly. The effects of magic." Libby carefully does her best to melt the snow, and smiles when she finds a glitter-like substance on her fingers. "When a person uses magic, they leave behind a small substance or trail. Usually it's unnoticed or undetected by the untrained eye. So one of them had magical powers."

"I can confirm that." Vilkas grunts. "One of them was a woman who had glowing yellow hands, and her punches were like that of a Frost Troll."

"Probably some incantation to increase her strength." Libby summarizes. "Is that common among the Silver-hand?"

The Companions shake their heads. "They're not ones for magic; another reason why they don't like our lycanthropy." Aela clarifies.

Libby rises up, clapping off her hands. "Well, they certainly did seem to have bettered their attacks."

"Even so, I can't get passed how, admittedly clever, their plan was." Vilkas says. "It seemed rather out of character."

"You all claim you've battled them before, what was the difference this time. Even an ambush should have been predictable." Libby says.

"There was, something else." Vilkas chimes. "I felt them inject a needle in my neck, and it was like . . . it was like my wolf instincts and my form were, frozen."

"What?"

"I saw them inject it into Kodlak too as he was about to shift, but then he couldn't." Vilkas shifts his gaze downcast. "It felt as if my beast blood was frozen, and when I tried to shift, I could feel it pushing against my skin."

"Another magic spell?" Diamond asks, looking to Libitania.

Libby has her fingers to her lips in thought. Her eyes suddenly widen, though her eyebrows stay furrowed. "Gods be damned." She says through grit teeth.

"What?" Diamond asks, taking a step closer to Libby.

"I know who their 'leader' is, and I know exactly where they took Kodlak, and they took him far." She says to Diamond.

"Where?"

"Far out in Eastmarch, at Cragslane Cavern, a small cave located north of Shor's Stone." Libby says, already starting to walk out of the courtyard towards the front of the hall. "We can get there by horseback, everyone get their things ready."

"Wait!" Diamond calls, chasing after her. But Libby doesn't stop so Diamond keeps up with her. "What about your fast-travel map?" she asks.

"It got burned." Libby sighs. "I was stupid enough to have it on me when I got to Cidhna Mines, and when they took everything from me, they burned it. But I know its exact location. We'll get there."

"Let's just hope we get there in time." Farkas says.

Thank you, Farkas," Diamond snaps.

A gentle nudge on her arm and Diamond looks to Libby. "We'll get there in time. They _want_ us to come and find him."

"Another trap?"

"Not really a trap if they're expecting us." Libby says. "You should head back to the hall, maybe get some of your things."

"I'll be fine." Diamond says, gesturing to her glass warhammer and the multiple belts holding daggers and short swords. There's a small smile on her lips.

Libby returns the smile and the two girls head out to Libby's mansion. The two of them make it to the stables and Diamond can't help but smile at the Chorrolian stallions as they stomp heir hooves. As Libby and Diamond saddle up, the rest of the Companions arrive, their eyes widening at the exotic and practically priceless horses lining the stables like they are the everyday horse of Skyrim.

"How – How did you . . .?" Ria starts to ask.

"Simply payment for my profession." Libby shrugs with a smile. "For those who want to ride, you may take your pick."

"While I wouldn't want to miss the chance to ride such an expensive horse," Aela says, "I feel more confident if I tracked Kodlak with my beast nose. Besides, the blood hungers."

"That's your decision." Libby says as she mounts her mare. The horse, sensing the eagerness, starts to huff and stomp her hoof.

"Are you sure they're safe?" Ria asks as she approaches a stableboy prepping another stallion.

"They're fine, just . . . wild." Libby purrs as she pats her mare. She looks to Farkas and Aela who don't seem to be mounted. "Alright, if you guys make it there before we do, you are _not_ to engage them."

"And since when are you one to give orders without Kodlak." Vilkas counters as he mounts.

Libby turns to him. "Ever since your pathetic failure, and because now, this is _my_ line of work now. I know how these people think, and I know exactly what they'll do if you go in without us. Unless Skjor's death wasn't a good enough lesson for you."

Everyone tenses, but Libby holds firm to her words. She dabs her heels into the horse's side, making it trot out of the stables. Diamond and all of the Companions follow her out, the horses bobbing their heads.

"I'll try and explain along the way on what's going on." Libby says as she starts to lead the Companions down towards the main gate. "It would seem that the Prince of Morthal has gotten into contact with one of my old Guild members."

Trotting down the cobblestone path, the Companions and Libby all bundled up in their warm clothing, Libby pulls a mask over the lower half of her face. Diamond pulling the hood of her pink cloak over her head.

"Her name was Dabiyrrya, and she was a master at alchemy. She could make ever concoction there was under the stars." Libby explains. "No doubt she's the one who made that weird serum that halted your transformation."

Once they're past the gate and off of the properties, it wasn't until they make it to the now destroyed and abandoned western watchtower does Libby continue.

"She joined the Guild and showed good promise, until she started questioning our rules and our methods. Even more so she managed to gain a few followers as well." Libby pulls her own hood up over her head, in her Nightingale suit, she is nothing more than a shadow; a black silhouette against the stars. Only her eyes, which are not thing pinpricks of light show through. "One thing led to another and soon I had her expelled with her crew. Before she left, she claimed I would rue the day I had let her go. And now it would seem that the prince is helping her fulfill her promise."

"Did she ever challenge you?" Ria asks. "Once. There was a small spat we had and she ended up throwing a dagger at my head. I caught it, and since then she's had a scar on her left cheek from my return throw."

"Well, I'd like to see her take you on now." Torvar says with a smile.

"How much longer until the serum wears off?" Vilkas asks.

"Hard to say, it could be hours, days, maybe not even ever. Dabiyrrya is just that good. I can't even be sure if she even made an antidote." Libby says, and after Vilkas sighs, she says. "Even if she didn't we'll figure it out ourselves. Or we can make her."

Aela and Farkas shift into their wolf form roaring and growling. Farkas looks to Libby, the ember-gold of his wolf eyes glowing. Libby smiles, and she could've sworn Farkas smiled back. Libby snaps the reins of her horse, and soon there are all thundering through the plains out towards Eastmarch.

The horses hold up well, keeping at a steady run up until they reach the Darkwater River where they had to stop for a drink. Aela and Farkas went on ahead, carefully prowling like the skilled predators they are. With the shadows and foliage, they are darkness.

Soon enough the riders spot a light in the distance, torches lading into the cave. Libby spots Farkas and Aela crouched just below a small ridge leading up to the cave. They park their horses a fair distance from the cave, carefully stalking towards the two Companions.

"Kodlak's in there. I can smell him." Aela says. "At least, as best I could past the smell of ale and sweat."

"Is he alive?" Diamond asks.

"I could hear his heartbeat." Farkas says. "It's a little slow, and there's the pinch of blood in the air."

"I swear to the gods if he's hurt, no one is walking out of that cave." Diamond promises.

"Easy Diamond," Libby says, setting a hand on her shoulder. "Let's try and scope out the area."

"Who goes in?"

"It'll be me and members of the Circle. We need at least two people out here to guard the entrance."

"I think Torvar and I should stay." Njada says.

"What? Why?"

"Because you reek of ale, and you might blow our cover." Farkas whispers.

Torvar is about to make an argument, but Diamond stops them. "We don't have time for bickering!" she says, her voice a quenched scream. Torvar and Njada guard the outside, Ria and Athis guard the mouth of the cave. The rest of us will go in and look for Kodlak."

"Not bad." Aela smiles.

Diamond looks to Libby, who is giving the moon a wicked smile. Diamond swallows. "What are you thinking?"

"If they know we're here, why not take the chance to make an entrance?"

"Is this really the time for that?" Diamond asks through grit teeth.

Libby shrugs with that smile still. "I'm Skyrim's Assassin. Dramatic entrances are practically my art form."

Slinking along the shadows, Diamond observes Libby for a few moments, watching her fluid movements take her up to the lip of the cave where Diamond's eyes find the shadow of one of the guards. Libby has his throat open in seconds, gently setting him to ground. With the call of a bluebird, the Companions file in, Torvar and Njada staying close to the horses.

Once the entrance is secured, Athis and Ria have their weapons at the ready, staring out into the open world while Libby and members of the Circle delve deeper. They're funneled through a narrow corridor until the come to an archway and the room opens up.

Diamond had to hold back a gasp of awe, as the rest of the members of the Circle at the sheer size of the cave. It had to be as big as a colosseum. It had several self-made skylight, letting in the beams of the moon, and at the very center was a large arena with giant torches illuminating it.

The arena had a large curved hallway leading out, much like a private box in a theatre. With her enhanced hearing, Diamond could hear muffled chatter.

And there is Kodlak, chained to one of the stone stalagmites.

Kodlak, his face is bruised and bleeding, his armor dented and scratched, his clothes ripped and dirty, his head hanging between his shoulders.

The ice in Diamond's gut spreads through her veins. She's about to move, but Libby's firm hand holds her down. "Aela, you and the twins will carefully secure the arena. Diamond, you and I will get to Kodlak."

They separate into group and Diamond follows Libby, watching as she draws a hidden dagger from the hidden flap of her boot. As they get closer, Diamond could see Kodlak's chest rising and falling with the breath he takes. Relief floods her stomach, though doing so little to quench the ice rage flowing through her, replacing her blood.

"Kodlak." Libby whispers.

The harbinger lifts his head, his right eye badly bruised and a couple of scratches along his left cheek. "Girls, thank goodness."

"You'll be okay Kodlak. We'll get you out of here." Diamond promises. Her hands grasp his face, carefully assessing the damage. Doesn't seem like anything too permanent. A little cream, some healing incantation from Danica . . .

Libby gets to work picking at Kodlak's chains, and she barely gives a word of warning to Diamond before she has Kodlak free in seconds. Diamond catches the Harbinger, grateful her years of training have left her more than able to hold up his weight. Kodlak holds onto her, pushing himself to his feet. "You shouldn't stress yourself Kodlak, you need to rest."

"I'm fine, Diamond." he assures. Libby sheathes her lockpicks and rises up, adjusting her vambraces as Kodlak speaks. "I've managed to regain my strength after they knocked me out."

"What?" Libby pipes.

"They had threatened to beat me every single time I tried to pull against the chains. They'd already knocked me about enough to convince me they weren't bluffing."

Aela and the twins run to approach Kodlak, Aela even hugging the harbinger when she sees he's unharmed, much. "It's so good to see you all right."

"I wouldn't celebrate just yet." Libby says, and when the Circle looks to her, her gaze is set towards the private box.

Everyone draws their weapons, Farkas sparing a sword to Kodlak. They wait in the orange glow of the torches. There is only silence, but then Diamond senses the attack a heartbeat after Libby.

Libby whirls and ducks, the other knife from her boot instantly in her hand, and the one male Silver-Hand goes down with a groan.

The twins practically hurl Kodlak to the ground. Diamond and Aela standing over them, weapons ready.

Libby strikes fast as an asp – a move she'd learned in the Alik'r Desert. As she yanks the knife from his thigh, warm blood pumps onto her hand. Another Silver-Hand, female, swipes a sword at her, but Libby meets it with both her knives before kicking the female Silver-Hand squarely in the stomach. She staggers back, yet not fast enough to escape Libby's blow that knocks her out.

"Well, it's certainly nice to see your years of slavery haven't hindered your skills, Libitania." A feminine voice chimes.

All attention turns to the private box and a fairly beautiful woman about Libby's age steps out from under the archway. Dabiyrrya.

Diamond has to admit, she is beautiful. She has exquisitely silver hair like the light of the moon. Her eyes were entrancingly purple, the color so bright and absolute like amethyst gems; her skin is as white as alabaster. She has an intricate yet wicked looking tattoo etched down her left arm, the whorls of black ink stark against her pale skin.

She wears studded silver armor that comes down to a cloth covering her groin area, a spiked pauldron over her right shoulder, her midriff exposed and boots coming up to her knees. Attached to her back are two swords and a couple of small daggers.

"I'm Skyrim's Assassin, you should know better than to doubt my skills." Libby says, standing tall and lowering her weapons, but keeping them at the ready. She takes two daring steps towards the box, even though it's high up. "Of course, I could give you another scar if that'll bring more common sense to your brain."

Dabiyrrya snarls. "I wouldn't be so bold when you're outnumbered."

On cue, four more Silver-Hand come out of the shadows of an archway leading into the arena beneath the private box. Diamond grips her Warhammer tighter as she takes in the stature of the opponents.

One of them is a hulking example of a man, muscled to match a troll, another is an attractive blonde with a sword and dagger, a helmeted woman with a long black ponytail bearing a whip with a spiked ball on the end, and finally a woman with a wicked smile. She reminds Diamond of Marionette with her iron claw nails and her wide, wide grin showing off her sharpened iron teeth. Her armor is metal gauntlets and a one-piece with fashionable armbands.

No doubt each are a gift from the princeling.

For a moment, Diamond's heart sinks. If there's another one like Marionette, could they be part of another form of species, maybe part of a cult of some kind . . .?

"Well, well, the gang's all here." Libby grumbles. Though she doesn't step back even as the four approach.

The blonde raises her swords above her head, swiping them down to emphasize their intimidating whistle. "I must admit, it _is_ wonderful to see you again, Libitania." She purrs. "Although, by the time we're done with you, you're going to wish you stayed down in those mines."

"I'd tell you to go to hell, Colenie. But given the situation, that'd be redundant." Libby snarls.

"Of all the Silver-Hand, why only these four?" Aela asks. "Why not send out the entire clan if she's their new leader?"

"Probably because she doesn't need to. Perhaps these 'warriors' are so good she doesn't need anyone else." Libby says, bringing her knives up in defense. "Which gives me an idea. But you're all going to have to trust me." Libby turns to the rest of the Companions, Kodlak now standing fully on his feet.

"What's your plan?" Aela asks quietly.

"So, Dabiyrrya, when exactly did the prince some crying to you to solve his problems?" Libby asks, ignoring Aela's question.

Dabiyrrya lifts her head back and laughs. "Oh what makes you think we had an outside influence?"

"Well you certainly can't afford armor like that with the money you steal." Libby says.

"Well, if you'd like to know, the prince approached me while I was resting at a local inn." She says, picking at her nails, appearing bored. "He flashed a bag of gold in my face and told me about you."

"Nice to know he's spending my money wisely." Libby grumbles.

"I could not resist the perfect opportunity to take you down and to finally make you regret expelling me from the Guild."

"I surely do feel sorry for you, Dabiyrrya. You must have _way_ too much time on your hands to be spending it in the bars and to be taking orders from such a spoiled milk-drinker." Libby says. She points the tip of her sword at Dabiyrrya. "Believe it or not I'm actually trying to help you, Dabiyrrya. Past his pretty face, Prince Joric is crazy and spoiled – a combination you _don't_ want any part of. If the best in all of Skyrim denies a contract with him, that has to say something."

"It just means I get the gold you turned down."

"It also means that you really _don't_ have any common sense."

"I'd watch your tongue, Libitania. You're in no position to argue with me." Dabiyrrya snarls. With a snap of her fingers, figures emerge from the shadows, Silver-Hand armed to the teeth with weapons, an archers high above, ready to aim their bows at the Companions below.

"Libby, I think now would be a good time to know that plan." Farkas whispers.

No response. Instead, Libby says, "What is it you really want, Dabiyrrya?"

"I want to make you pay for kicking me out of the Guild! I deserve to be in that Guild and you know it!"

"If it is money you want, then I can pay you double, even triple of what it is Joric paid you. Maybe even more just because I feel bad for you and that armor he put you in."

Dabiyrrya slams her fist against the railing. "I'm done accepting money from you, Libitania. I plan to have your blood spilled all across these stones!"

"Fine then. Why not make it interesting?" Libby grins, and behind her, she can practically feel the members of the Circle tense.

"What could you possibly offer me?" Dabiyrrya says, continuing to pick at her nails. Diamond would just love to rip those nails right off and stab them in her amethyst eyes.

"A duel." Libby smiles. "Me against your little gang, and if I win, you let us go, and I never see your sorry face again, or it'll end up on my wall with my wolf pelt."

"And if you lose?" Dabiyrrya grins wickedly.

"Then you get me, and the gold I have all around Skyrim. It would be enough to set you up for life." Libby says with her arms spread.

Dabiyrrya lifts her chin, debating the deal. And then even Libby is suspired to hear Kodlak say, "Perhaps this deal would be a little more interesting if the two of us fight together?"

A collective. "What?!"

Kodlak looks to Dabiyrrya. "As Harbinger of the Companions, your name would spread all across Skyrim if they hear you took down both Skyrim's Assassin and the Harbinger of the Companions."

"Hmm, it would be nice to watch you all struggle. Fine, I accept your offer. But no other Companions can intervene. If they do, the challenge is void, and you will lose."

"Fine." Libby agrees.

"And there's another condition. You can't use your enchanted weapons and magical shields. You can only use the weapons that _we_ give you." Dabiyrrya grins.

Libby looks to Kodlak, who only smiles beneath his bloodied beard and a lift of his eyebrows. Libby looks back to Dabiyrrya with narrows eyebrows. "You're on."

Dabiyrrya smiles and calls her gang to pull back. "You'll have ten minutes to prep yourselves." She then turns back and walks deeper into the private box.

A door to their left opens up and a Silver-Hand male with a battleax comes out. He approaches the group, and nods to them. Libby sheathes her knives before motioning the Circle to follow. They are brought into a small hall resembling guards' barracks with only iron weapons hanging on the wall. The Silver-Hand male appropriately took all of Libby and Kodlak's weapons, leaving only the rest of the members armed.

As Kodlak sits down in a wooden chair, Vilkas approaches Libby, daringly putting a hand on her shoulder. "What the hell were you thinking?!" Libby immediately shakes off his grip, glaring at him.

"Believe it or not, I was thinking about Kodlak's safety!" she shouts. "We wouldn't have stood a chance against them, especially if they have an anti-wolf serum with them! More importantly, I wasn't expecting Kodlak to even volunteer himself!"

"Well I wasn't going to let you have all of the fun." Kodlak smiles.

"Do you have the strength?"

"I may be old, but I'm still a warrior."

"So now will you tell us your plan, Libby, please?" Diamond asks as she takes a seat next to Kodlak.

"Look, we're out numbered here, and with the rest of the members outside, we need to keep the attention on the arena fight. So while Kodlak and I are fighting, one of you has to go and get Athis, Ria, Njada and Torvar. Together you'll all slaughter the rest of the Silver-Hand here, and then we can take out Dabiyrrya once we beat her stupid little gang."

"Seems like a good plan." Farkas agrees.

"No doubt those members of hers are the best she has here, so with them focused on us, the rest of you can easily plow through the remaining Silver-Hand members." Libby explains.

There's a moment of silence, glances exchanged and sighs through the noses.

"I'll take that as an agreement." Libby says. "Now the only thing we have to worry about is who has to leave, and who can stay to watch the show."

Libby starts to browse the wall of iron weapons, searching for the right one. Frankly, they all stink, iron is the weakest form of metal, at least in Skyrim. Kodlak gets up to join here, looking towheads the warhammers and shields.

"I don't think I need to stay to know the outcome of the battle, but it's not something I want to miss." Aela says.

Libby has stopped at a rack of iron swords. She takes on in her hand, gives it a couple of practice swings and then sheathes it into her belt. She then picks up a branded iron shield and straps it across her back. She then continues to take a rope and a circlet with not jewels. "Then again, maybe none of you have to go." She smiles.

Libby accompanies the Circle members, fisting her hand. An icy-bluish light emanates from inside her fingers. She smiles as the Companions watch her whisper into it and then opens up her hand. A shimmering ball of light sparkles and then it hops up slightly before leaving her hand and shooting out through the opposite wall.

"What was that?" Farkas asks.

"A special cast I learned while at the College of Winterhold. The Will-o'-the-Wisp. It'll deliver our message to the others. Hopefully they'll understand it." Libby says, securing the rope to her wrist.

As Kodlak wordlessly rejoins the group, Libby takes notice of a shied strapped to his back and a long iron lance with an intricate, pointed end set in his grip. He spares the members a smile.

"You ready?" she asks.

Kodlak nods. And as if on cue, the door barges open and the same Silver-Hand male comes in stating the two of them are wanted in the arena. Libby and Kodlak follow him out and the members of the Circle are escorted to the stands. Already Dabiyrrya's little gang are out and ready. Weapons still the same, some even having the nerve to snicker as Libby and Kodlak approach with their simple weapons. And Dabiyrrya herself is back in her private box, observing the crowd as if she was an empress.

Diamond and the members of the Circle are already seated in the stands of the arena, watching carefully as Dabiyrrya's gang approaches. Libby and Kodlak ready their shields and weapons.

"They'll go for position; try and separate us." Libby says.

Kodlak chuckles. "Let them try."

Seated with the members of the Circle, Diamond can't stop her heart from hammering.

Dabiyrrya grins and then calls, "Silver-Hand, destroy them!"

Diamond and the members of the Circle all seemed to stiffen as they watched Dabiyrrya's gang charged Libby and Kodlak. The woman with blonde hair, of which Libby said her name was Colenie. Swings her sword up and is the first to strike Kodlak. Or more rather strike his shield.

She quickly accompanies it with her dagger and when Kodlak lunges the end of his spear towards her, Colenie catches it in her arm and tries to strike Kodlak with her free hand. He blocks it with his shield and tries to whack at her, but she ducks down. She swings her swords up crossing at an X to close the blades around Kodlak's neck, but the Harbinger dodges, swinging his spear at her.

She blocks with her swords and tries to swing again at Kodlak, only to hit his shield. As quick as an asp, Kodlak swings his spear up but Colenie dodges, rolling out of the way as Kodlak swings again. Libby behind him is fighting the one girl whose weapon it a spiked-ball whip. She whacks the girl back, the clang of metal rattling Libby's bones.

As Kodlak looks up, the big burly man charges him like a bull, tackling Kodlak to the ground and making the Harbinger lose both his spear and shield. Pinning him beneath, the man tries to punch, but Kodlak brings his hand up, pushing it aside and delivering his own blow to the bull man. Locking his legs around the man's head, Kodlak manages to deliver two more hard punches before he rolls back, sending the bull-man over.

Libby's opponents have switched and now she faces the woman with the iron teeth. They dance past Kodlak, her iron gauntlets ringing as they clash against Libby's sword. The iron maiden goes to strike and as Libby blocks with her shield, the woman manages to swipe it clean off of Libby's arm. Without showing the slightest emotion, Libby simply ducks as the iron maiden swings her leg aimed for Libby's head.

Colenie is charging for Kodlak again, but behind him, Diamond watches as the woman with the whip throws the iron ball up, whirls it around and hurdles it towards Kodlak. He notices it, but doesn't move.

"Kodlak!" she screams and suddenly her eyes flick to Libby as she knocks the iron maiden aside with a sheer kick to the neck.

Libby's hands reach for the simple rope around her neck and grunts as she sends it flying in a lasso form. It looks around the rope of the spiked ball and Libby yanks it towards her. She catches the rope and pulls, then loops it around her leg, pulling the woman to her. Once the woman is in front of her, she delivers a hard kick sending the woman flipping back.

Diamond sighs with relief, looking to Farkas. He's rather nervous, biting his bottom lip, and those eyes intensely watching Libby. They've managed to at least come up with names for the warriors. The hulking man, the iron maiden with her teeth and gauntlets, Colenie with her swords and helmet woman.

Libby's looks behind her in time to have the iron maiden jump and flip as the fingers of her gauntlets scrape against Libby's blade. She goes for two deadly swipes, both of which Libby dodges and delivers with an uppercut to her face. The iron maiden follows the momentum, flipping back. As Libby goes to strike, she drops to her knee last minute, bringing up her forearm to block the spiked ball aimed for her head. It ricochets back towards the woman's feet as Libby rises, and the helmeted woman smiles.

Her arm whips left and right, the rope following her movements it graceful waves. She certainly knew how to handle that weapon, and the spiked ball starts to strike at Libby like the head of a snake. The sound cracks against Diamond's ears, to the point where she almost wanted to cover them.

Libby blocks the attacks with her sword and charges towards the helmeted woman. Meanwhile, Kodlak is facing against Colenie, swinging his spear at her to counter her swords, the sound of the metal whistling on the wind. He skillfully spins the spear above his head before whacking it into Colenie's head, throwing her down.

The hulking man makes to pound Kodlak into the ground with his foot, ducking low as the Harbinger tries to swing his sear at the man's head. He goes for a punch and misses, and Kodlak actually grabs the man's elbow as it tries to aim for his dome.

The iron maiden is running for the group, flipping skillfully as Libby now faces against Colenie, and Kodlak still with the hulking male. The two manage to shove off their opponents, Libby leaping out of the way in time to avoid the iron maiden's foot ready to strike her down.

All the while, Libby and Kodlak never get more than a few feet apart. Libby is instantly back by Kodlak, the two stepping back to press themselves against one another, back to back. Neither one of them is out of breath, their weapons still at the ready.

"They're very good," Kodlak admits to Libby.

"They should be." Libby says with aggravation "_I_ trained them."

Diamond's hands are gripping the edge of the balcony blocking them from getting into the ring. Dabiyrrya's little gang surrounds Libby and Kodlak. Diamond can only hope that the rest of the Companions received Libby's message and are doing everything they can to eliminate the rest of the Silver-Hand here in the cave. Oh how Diamond would love to just throw a dagger at Dabiyrrya's head and just end this thing.

Hers and Farkas' head turns towards the private box where that coward bitch is standing watching and she screams. "Kill them!"

Jerking her head back, Diamond watches as the iron maiden goes to swipe at Kodlak, of which he lifts his shielded arm and whacks the maiden down. He then jerks his arm so the shield is off and sends it spinning like a flying disk at the helmeted maiden. It nicks her elbow, blood splaying as she cries out in pain to grip it.

Spinning his staff, Kodlak sends her skipping aside, then spinning again and ducking low as the hulking man comes up for a punch. Kodlak lets the man fall onto him, then hurling and lifting him up and over. The iron maiden returns, diving form the air like a bird of prey. As Kodlak swings his leg at her, she amazingly dodges by hitting the ground and rotating on her knees as she swings up her arm. Kodlak spins his staff blocking her iron nails coming at him.

Diamond swallows thickly. Gods, he's so fast, and still so good even after all this time he talks about how his body has grown weak. Grown weak her ass.

They're both so good and so fast, if Diamond didn't know any better, the two of them could've killed this little bandit gang in seconds. Why draw it on? They owe nothing to Dabiyrrya – and it would seem she's more than happy to kill Libby at any time.

Colenie is facing off against Libby, her blade singing as she swings at them. Libby leans back, one of the blades narrowly missing strands of her hair. She dives and rolls through Colenie's legs and whirling, swinging her leg up and whacking Colenie in the head. She spins down into the dirt.

As Libby rises, she senses the hulking man too late and his feet meets her spine. Libby screams as pain rips up her back forcing her to double over. The man then aggressively grabs Libby by the hair and swings her halfway across the arena floor. Libby grunts in pain as she skips across the dirt like a stone on water before rolling to a stop.

But she's still.

The man is hurtling after her, and suddenly he leaps up into the air.

Gods, he's going to . . .

Libby still isn't moving.

Libby.

_Libby_.

"Libby!"

Diamond thinks she screams it, her throat bobbing from the urge, but it was Farkas. Diamond briefly looks over at him, seeing his knuckles white from gripping the railing. His fingernails are close to breaking.

Libby's eyes flicker open, and in the narrow seconds, she rolls out of the way of the man's impending feet. Dirt and stone plume together in a cloud as the man's feet dent in the ground. He hurries after Libby as she rolls.

She stops, but doesn't have time to get up. She can only bring her shielded arm up to block her torso in time as the hulking man's foot comes raining down into her shield. The impact sounds like a sharp clap of thunder, an aftershock rippling through the arena. It was so great that there are fissures of the cracked earth beneath her. Clouds of dirt and stone belch up around Libby, and Diamond grinds her teeth as she hears Libby grunt in pain as the man brings his foot down on her a second time. Libby's pushed deeper into the ground.

She's getting pushed _into_ the ground. Gods, that man's strength . . .

Libby grinds her teeth as she feels the man pinning her arm to her ribs, the pain enough to make her want to scream. Her face is pounding, no doubt it's red as a tomato from the pressure. She can't push him off, she can barely move.

But as the man grins down at her, his face suddenly grows white and Libby hears the sound of metal impaling flesh. She looks up to see the spearhead burst through the man's chest, splaying droplets of blood along her face. The man's eyes are wide, enough to see white all around, and his mouth gapes slightly, as if to speak on last breath, but the spearhead brings him down and behind him is Kodlak, teeth bared in hatred.

Libby slowly pushes herself onto her elbows, gazing in disbelief at the now dead man. Kodlak removes his spear, the weapon making a sick sucking noise, blood spurting through and dripping from the tip. Libby rises to her hands, still in shock.

Over in the stands, the Companions are all white, eyes wide and mouths agape. The circlet on Libby's forehead is rustic now, her skin still gleaming with sweat.

"Thanks." Libby speaks softly.

Kodlak smiles at her – nothing crazy or sane, but still the same warm smile as he shows to all of his Companions brothers and sisters. "Don't mention it."

As Libby rises to her feet, there's no time to speak more as a scream from the side briefly attracts their attention. Libby looks just in time to see the iron maiden tackle her. Libby cries out.

"Libitania!" Kodlak shouts.

As the two tumble and roll, Kodlak hurries after them. The two stop with the iron maiden pinning Libby beneath her. She raises her arms up, screaming wildly as she tries to claw at Libby's face. Libby holds her by the wrists, their arms sharking from matched strength.

Kodlak brings his staff up, ready to swipe away the maiden, but then the spiked ball nails him in the head. He drops to the ground, losing the grip on his staff.

"_No_!" Diamond screams.

The iron maiden's teeth are out, and she leans down, trying her best to bite at Libby's face. Libby practically merges her face into the ground to avoid the sharp iron teeth barely brazing the skin of her cheeks. She grins wickedly at Libby.

"Nice try." Libby snarls. Then she suddenly rams her head forward and the circlet around her forehead clinks loudly against the Iron maiden's forehead. She yells in pain and Libby throws her off and to the ground.

Quickly Libby rises, now pinning the maiden beneath her, pressing the edge of her shield against the woman's throat.

'Let's see you smile now." Libby growls, no smile on her lips.

Carefully, with enhanced ears, Diamond could hear the quiet popping and cracking of bone. Just one shove and that shield is through the maiden's neck. It was rather incredible, they managed to fight their way through without magic enchantments, and frankly the worst weapons made for novice sword fighters.

Diamond would've given Libby the credit, if not for . . .

"Saddened assassin." Dabiyrrya says. All heads turn to find that she actually set foot outside of her safe, private box to join those in the arena. She steps aside to reveal Kodlak with hands bound behind his back, Colenie and the helmeted woman standing behind him.

"Kodlak!" Libby exclaims. He face softening into concern and worry.

"Surrender now, or the bastard dies." Colenie says as she grabs a handful of Kodlak's hair and yanks it back to look at Libitania. She brings her sword close to his neck.

But Kodlak says, "No, Libitania! Let them kill me! Never surrender!" just those words alone were enough to make Kodlak's skin brush against the blade. A thin, thin trickle of blood streams down his neck.

Dabiyrrya laughs as she stands with her hands behind her back. "Imagine how pleased his royal Highness will be. Why settle for some old Harbinger with spent years, when I can deliver to him, Skyrim's Assassin!"

Libby is scowling, putting all of her self-control into not just flinging a dagger at Dabiyrrya's throat. Not while Kodlak risks losing his jugular.

"Let me kill her, Dabiyrrya." Colenie says with bared teeth. She presses the blade deeper into Kodlak's skin. Just enough to make him wince.

"No!" Libby barks. She still doesn't move her arm from the iron maiden's neck. "It's me you want. Let him go."

Dabiyrrya wickedly grins. "I'd like to have my cake and eat it, too." She turns to Colenie. "Make him bleed."

Colenie's blonde hair ripples in the light, and she grins widely, almost insanely as she readies to slide the blade.

As Diamond is about to scream, Libby's hand whips down, fast as an asp at the rope still attached to her waist. Hurdling it forward, the rope acts almost like a snake itself as it loops around Colenie's arm holding the blade. With a hard yank, she's thrown forward, losing her grip on her sword.

As she clatters to the ground, Kodlak grins and whips his leg back and up, nailing the helmeted woman in the chin. She grunts, dropping her whip to cradle her chin and Kodlak rises up, head-butting her.

The iron maiden growls at Libby, and Libby simply delivers a hard blow to the woman's head, knocking her unconscious. Libby drops her shield and winds her rope as she runs for Dabiyrrya and Colenie, Dabiyrrya frozen in surprise and possible fear.

As Libby runs towards her, Colenie reaches back grabbing another dagger strapped to her waist, but as she swipes for Libby's ankles, Libby pushes off her toes, flips and lands on Colenie, slamming their backs together.

Dabiyrrya tries to go for Libby, a punch or something, but Libby rolls off of Colenie and swings her leg up, then back down, whacking it into Dabiyrrya's stomach. Grunting, Libby pushes her down, Dabiyrrya's head smacking into the ground.

Behind her, Kodlak spins, whipping the ball end of the rope of the whip around the helmeted woman's neck. Hurtling it down, her head smacks into his knee. She falls back, unconscious and with a possible bloody nose.

Libby is immediately behind him, a spare dagger of hers easily cutting through Kodlak's ropes. The two of them smile at one another. Then Kodlak looks behind Libby to see she's bound Dabiyrrya's wrists with her tope, a look of scorning on her beautiful features.

The whistle of a blade sounds and she gasps, looking up to find Libby with her iron sword, its tip inches from her neck. The assassin smiles. "You were saying, Dabiyrrya?"

Footsteps sound behind them and the twins with Aela and Diamond come up behind them. Vilkas and Diamond go over to Kodlak, Farkas walking up to Libby, but still keeping a safe distance between them while she has the sword to Dabiyrrya.

Suddenly, Dabiyrrya smiles as she looks up to Libby. "Go ahead. Kill me. That's what you're programmed to do."

Libby snarls. Kodlak takes a step closer. "Libitania." He mumbles.

"What's the matter, _Libby_? You know you want to." Dabiyrrya challenges, even daring to put the skin of her neck to the tip of the blade.

Tension so palpable it's suffocating rises in the arena as Libby stares at Dabiyrrya. All the time Libby and Kodlak were fighting, all Diamond wanted to do was stab the woman in the heart. But now . . . now it would seem she's challenging Libby, daring her to show everyone the cold and heartless being she is.

But then, Libby lowers her blade. Not only that, she sheathes her blade. She approaches Dabiyrrya. "You have no idea what you're up against." She mumbles, her voice soft, but deathly calm.

"I've seen you fight, Libitania. But I'm not afraid of you."

"I'm not talking about me." Libby lowers to one knee, resting one arm on her knee. "You have no idea what Prince Joric can do. And neither do I; it's a bad idea to get involved with him. Use common sense, Dabiyrrya. If I walked away from him, then there's something off about him."

Dabiyrrya simply stares at Libby, but Diamond can see the words starting to travel through her brain as her features start to soften.

"He has his own personal agenda that you are simply a pawn in. And that agenda is getting after me, and the Companions all because they didn't give him what he wanted."

"His agenda doesn't seem any different than other contracts you assassin's take on." Dabiyrrya says, her voice softer, but still laced with defiance.

"Maybe so, but if I walk away from it, you know something is wrong. You're better off just . . . doing something else." Libby says, careful not to extend an invitation for Dabiyrrya to join the Guild again.

"If there was something better I would go for it. But if he's paying me mass amounts of money, who am I to question?"

"You. Your morals, and even him. He's not right, Dabiyrrya. Why can't you see that?"

"Well I have nothing left in my life, so what else do I have to lose?" Dabiyrrya says as she sets her gaze downcast.

"What –?"

"You've kicked me out of the Guild, the Brotherhood is out of existence, I'm not pretty enough to be in the Faceless, and I'm too poor to keep a modest citizenship in any of these cesspit cities!"

Suddenly there are tears clouding Dabiyrrya's eyes and breaching past to stream down her cheeks. Libby's eyes widen, but her eyebrows remain furrowed. She looks to Kodlak who has nothing but pity etched into his wrinkled features.

"There's nothing left for me." Dabiyrrya mumbles. She sniffles and for a heartbeat, Libby's hands reaches up, ready wipe them away, but her hand lowers back down. "My only other hope was to join up with the rebels in support of Erelia Glendeylin."

Everything stops, everything stiffens. The air seems too thin as Libby swallows thickly. Libby looks to Kodlak again, showing his genuine surprise. The members of the Circle also seem to be in shock and surprise.

"You wanted to join up with Erelia's movement?" Vilkas asks.

"Let's face it, Skyrim has gone to shit with both Nords and Imperials trying to rule over it. I can't even – nor do I want to – imagine what it'll look like with the Dominion ruling over it. Erelia is our only hope. Skyrim _needs_ her." She says.

_Hope_

"So this was all part of your personal agenda?" Aela asks.

"Well, killing you all on the side was just a little task. I was hoping to be in business with the prince until I earned enough money to commission my armor and buy a decent weapon."

"Yeah well," Libby swallows again, even having to clear her throat. "All of that money he's giving you, it's from me." Dabiyrrya looks up in surprise. "My payment to him for his contract."

There's a moment of silence, and a couple blinks from Dabiyrrya as Libby stands.

"As we speak, the rest of the Companions are eliminating the Silver-Hand here in this hideout." Dabiyrrya grows pale. "My offer to you still stands."

Dabiyrrya looks to Libitania, confused. Libby sighs.

"I can pay you double of what the prince promised you in exchange for my head. It'll be more than enough for you to buy some good weapons and impressive armor – maybe even two sets of armor." There's a ghost of a smile on Libby's lips. She leans down again, this time undoing the ropes around Dabiyrrya's wrists. "You have five minutes to pack your things and leave." Libby says quietly. "Because in ten minutes, I'm going up to the battlements and I'm going to fire an arrow at you. And you'd better pray that you're out of range by then, because if you're not, that arrow is going straight through your neck."

Dabiyrra's wrists are free. She rubs the insides as she slowly gets to her feet. The woman's eyes are damp as she stares at Libitania.

"Do you know of a location of a rebel camp?" Libby asks.

Dabiyrrya nods.

"I'll have Brynjolf send you the money when, or _if_, you're ever get settled."

She opens her mouth, but Libby cuts her off.

"Get out of here, Dabiyrrya."

Dabiyrrya's face goes white again. She glances at Libby only once before she takes off at a sprint, leaping over the hulking man's corpse as if he is nothing more than a bit of debris.

And then she is gone.


	36. Chapter 35

Dabiyrrya is already a blur in the distance, her horse galloping as if the winds themselves are pushing at her hooves.

From atop the battlements, Libitania tightens her fingers around the grip of her Daedric bow. In the time it took Dabiyrrya to get ready, Libitania left the Harbinger and the Companions in the arena. No one stopped her, or questioned her for letting Dabiyrrya go.

She exchanged all of her weapons, feeling more than relived to have her Nightingale sword strapped against her waist. When she stepped out of the arena chamber, the smell of crimson hit her nose. Or more like assaulted her nose. It was strong enough that she had to cover her mouth and even push back the flashback images it brought with of when her parents died.

Still, she sloshed through the puddles of blood, ignoring each member of the Companions she passed. She knew everyone else was behind her, but paid them no heed. Farkas didn't even come after her.

Libby draws an arrow from her quiver and nocks it into the bow.

She takes a deep breath, pulling the bowstring back, farther and father, her arm straining. The bow whines, vibrating through her arm.

Narrowing her eyes, Libitania takes aim at the dark figure atop the stallion.

In the silence of the cave, the bowstring twangs like a mournful harp. The arrows soars straight and fast towards the galloping horse. The plains below and the sky above blur together as it soars with precision.

The horse stutters slightly as the arrow lands inches from its front hoof of where it was about to step. But Dabiyrrya doesn't even look back, she just steadies the horse and keeps riding towards the moon.

Libitania lowers her bow and watches until Dabiyrrya disappears beyond the horizon. One arrow, that had been her promise.

She had also promised Dabiyrrya she would send her the money she needed once she got settled in with the rebels.

But Libitania couldn't just let her leave with virtually nothing. So she only hopes that Dabiyrrya securely knotted the three giant bags of gold to the saddle.

A fair exchange for Dabiyrrya's map of the rebel camps.


	37. Chapter 36

Diamond didn't know what to think when she returned home to Whiterun with Libby and the rest of the Companions. She didn't know what to say to Libby, who looked more than a little pale when she returned from the battlements after firing at Dabiyrrya. After Libby freed Dabiyrrya, she not only spared her life, but gave her a small fortune in gold for the bandit bitch to run off and join the rebels.

Diamond was about to question it, but it was the grip from Vilkas' hand that stopped her from saying so. Libby then left to fulfill her promise to fire an arrow at Dabiyrrya, and then came back. But she came back, different . . . she suddenly seemed more fatigued, tired as if the aftermath of the battle had just started to affect her.

When they left the cave as a group, they walked out to the smell of blood. And it was puddled everywhere. Torvar, Athis, Ria and Njada thankfully received Libby's message and took care of the rest of the Silver-Hand located in the cave. They were smeared, splattered and bathed in the blood, their weapons rustic in color.

But Libby . . . she didn't even care. At least, it looked like she didn't. She simply walked past them, gripping her bow even tighter in her hands as she made her way up to the battlements. Even Farkas didn't go after her. And when she came back down, her face was still placid, though paler and . . . haunted, almost.

Once they made it back to Jorrvaskr, Libby departed from the group, not even bothering with a goodbye. Kodlak looked to Farkas, but he simply shook his head and walked into the hall. It was so strange to think that he knew how Libby gets now. It is so wired to think that he knows her now like the back of his hand.

Now sitting by the warm fire of the hall, Diamond devours multiple plates and bowls of food, and as she's aiming her eyes on a plate of sweet rolls, she can't help but flick her eyes to Kodlak, who is now reading at the head of the table. Many of the warriors praised Kodlak for how well in battle he held up with Libby, and he simply chuckled and simply said; "I told you so."

As Diamond chomps down on her first sweet roll, a part of her wonders if she should've spoken to Libby – congratulated her, thanked her for saving Kodlak – but she wasn't really given the chance since she left without a word. And it would seem like something is bothering her.

_All the more reason to go and speak to her_.

But is it really her place? It would mean a lot to Libby, in a way. Or she could just snap at Diamond and slam the door in her face. Maybe if even Farkas didn't want to go, perhaps it is best she waits until Libby comes to the hall.

Diamond looks to Torvar, indulging himself in some warm soup when she asks, "How was the slaughter?"

He looks to her, finishes slurping his spoonful and says, "Pretty fun. They didn't put up much of a fight, though I do think some stragglers got away."

Diamond shrugs. A few isn't that bad, since she and Aela have been butchering their camp like bee hives, they should practically be extinct by now. Looking over at the wall, she gazes upon the shattered warhammer plaque on the wall. They're so close to piecing together Wuuthrad again, the mighty axe that Ysgramor himself used during the siege of the Night of Tears – the great battle against the Snow Elves.

Nowadays, Diamond isn't so sure about the 'glory' of the battle. It could've been because she's an Imperial, or the rumors about the lost Snow Elf Queen Erelia, but Diamond feels pity on the Snow Elves. Even if they had insinuated the battle, that still wasn't enough reason for the Nords to go on their genocidal campaign and practically exterminate the entire race.

Gods, she can't even imagine what Erelia must've witnessed, or perhaps her brother the Snow Prince. Erelia was there for the slaughter of her parents, and practically her kind during the middle of the war, but the Snow Prince – even when he was a general of the army – he had lost his entire family, and then he watched his entire race get massacred.

How could men find it in their hearts to do something so . . . inhumane and find honor in it? Even if conspirators say that the Snow Elves started the war, it's a childish excuse when it comes to the extermination of the species.

Maybe that's the reason that's fueling the rebels and their support. The Nords think they did it for honor, and yet to others: to the Khajiit, to the Imperials, to the Brentons, the Redgaurd, to the Dunmer, the Bosomer and Orcs and Argonians, they only did it because they were not of Nord blood. They only did it because Skyrim is 'their' land.

It was said that the Snow Elves were a wealthy and prosperous race. They said to have inhabited Skyrim before the Nords even settled. Wonder where the history went wrong in that . . .

But still, even Diamond has to admit that it is hard to picture a Snow Elf ruling upon the throne of Skyrim. Probably because she, like most others, can only picture the Falmer when mentioned the name Snow Elf. The vile creatures are all that remains of the Snow Elves, and while they seem to have vast numbers, their sour attitudes leave them less than desirable.

_Erelia is our only hope. Skyrim_ needs _her_. Dabiyrrya had said.

What would they call Erelia? Snow Elf? Falmer?

Diamond remembers Kodlak telling a story about how the Snow Elves had powers beyond that of mortal imagination. While the family tree of the Glendeylin family is beyond faint in her brain, Diamond could still remember how they were the most powerful bloodline of elves in their species.

They were a powerhouse. A bloodline so mighty that other kingdoms had lived in terror of the day the House of Glendeylin would come to claim their lands. But they never did. They stuck to their borders, killing those (Nords) who refused to leave.

Diamond lowers her sweet roll, suddenly with a loss of appetite.

Could things be better with Erelia on the throne? Would she even want it? – would she want to rule on the throne of the ones who had butchered her kind?

Leaning back in her seat, Diamond rotates her finger around the lip of her goblet. The faint ring chimes in her ear.

What would happen if she were to join the rebels? It's a silly idea, a deadly idea, but it seems like Erelia is having a lot of support, and with Princess Nassari seemingly in support, she already seems to have an army at her disposal. But how are they getting anything done without their actual leader there to support them. Others claimed to have met her already and know for a fact she is in support of reclaiming the throne, but there's still something . . . missing.

"Something bothering you, little cub?" Kodlak asks.

Diamond looks up and finds that he has moved, his book still at his original seat. She must've looked as far gone as she felt. She blinks, trying to get herself refocused. She looks to Kodlak who is leaning one elbow.

"Just thinking too much." She says, taking the goblet and sipping it. The sweet taste of berry flavored ale hits her tongue.

"Might I ask what about?"

Diamond looks to him, folding in her lips. Then she simply gives a shrug of her shoulders. Kodlak smiles at her.

"You know, no one is stopping you from visiting her. Last I checked, her gates are open." He says.

"I just don't know if it's my place." Diamond says, her gaze upon the fire as it crackles. "I mean, I haven't forgiven her, I don't know if I ever can. And yet she hasn't said she's sorry despite her efforts."

"Diamond, she is sorry. I just don't think you've given her the opportunity to say it to you."

"Yeah. It's just a vicious circle."

"A circle that you can break. Yet you refuse not to. Out of what, pride?"

"No, it's just – I feel like she needs to say sorry first. As childish as that may be, I deserve it. And she owes it to me."

"Does she?"

Diamond looks to him. "What?"

"Excuse me." Kodlak says, rubbing his pointer finger along his chapped lips.

"No, no what did you say? Are you defending her?"

"Even if I am, understand it is out of fairness."

"Fairness?!" Diamond shouts. Kodlak immediately hushing her as some faces turn to them. With a wave of Kodlak's hand, they turn away. Diamond tries to keep her voice in check. In result, she hisses a whisper. "She destroyed my entire faction. She killed everyone and betrayed me! If she can so easily do that – throwing away everything we ever shared together – then why would I care about her either?"

"Perhaps she did it for your own good?"

"And why would she do that? I mean, yes I didn't feel as respected among the Brotherhood, but it was just as I was feeling like I was fitting among them did she kill them all."

"She didn't kill them. The Faceless did."

"Same thing."

"Did you see her in the Sanctuary?"

"No, but she gave away the location. She was there with Commander Maro when I was fleeing the banquet. And that's enough for me." Diamond growls. All of this talk is just riling up her anger just as it was getting extinguished.

"Did you even bother to ask her about her reasons?"

"No," Diamond says softer. "I was so upset that I didn't care."

"Well, I did."

Diamond looks to him, hurt etching across her features. She remembers hearing Libby and Kodlak speaking before, when Libby wore that opal dress (of which she cannot find _anywhere_ here in Whiterun. It must've been from Elsweyr) She didn't know how long they've been talking, and Kodlak knew Diamond was there, but didn't usher her away. It must've been some time while Diamond was away on the hunt.

"What" – a cough makes Diamond clear her throat. "What did she say?" Diamond asks.

Kodlak stares at Diamond for a moment, swallows, then sighs. "I'm afraid it is not my place to tell."

"Kodlak, come on!" she whines.

Kodlak rolls his eyes, but Diamond watches as he ponders. His face softens, and her heart sinks when he sees his eyes glistening with . . . tears? What did Libby tell him? More importantly, what did she tell him that she couldn't tell Diamond?

Then again, she thought she knew everything about Libby before. Perhaps there's more than Diamond is ready to know. . . Kodlak then sighs. "I suppose you were to learn sooner or later." He mumbles, almost barely audible. "Am I am here to lead you along your path, I suppose."

"Kodlak?" Diamond whispers.

Another sigh. "From what Libby had told me, from what she wanted to disclose, she was wandering on her own long before she joined the Guild." Diamond leans back, folding her arms. "After her father was brutally murdered, she was forced to flee. She was driven to the River Yorgrim and a traveling Khajiit caravan found her, and helped navigate her to Riften."

"That's it?" she's heard that story before.

"No." Kodlak bluntly answers. What makes Diamond's skin crawl with goose skin is the fact that he seemed so cold about it. "That's what you had learned."

_Learned_?

"In the truth, Zusa, was the one who had found Libitania by the riverside half-frozen, nearly dead. She took Libitania in and raised her up until her adolescence, molding her into a killing machine. Then when she was fourteen, she let Libitania travel to Riften to take her position in the Guild."

"But Mercer. Libby had said he murdered her father." Diamond says.

"He did. And when he saw Libitania return, you could guess he was less than happy."

"He knew who she was." Diamond remembers Libby often telling her, or more often seeing the fear in Libitania's eyes whenever she saw Mercer Frey. But Diamond could also see an underlying anger and hatred in Libby's eyes. So absolute that the ring of gold around her eyes would practically glow. "But he never attacked her."

"Because the Guild was at her back. When they discovered Libitania, by then Mercer had already told the story of how Karliah had murdered Gallus. So when she emerged, he had his eyes on her and planned to kill her again. He just needed an opportunity."

"And then Libby actually made a plan with Karliah to expose the truth about Mercer to the Guild." Diamond finishes.

"And only now did Libitania just paid off her debt to Zusa Phoenix, avenged her father, and freed herself from the debt of Skyrim."

"So, you're saying she did all of this to protect me? How in the hell did she protect me? She destroyed my faction, she let them keep me prisoner! She didn't even help me escape when Veera and Malee–!" Diamond claps her hand over her mouth, just in time to trap a sob in her throat. Gods, how is it her body always reacts like this just from the mention of his name?!

"Diamond, it is not fair for you to blame her for some of those things." Kodlak says, and frighteningly enough, Diamond almost wants to rake her nails down his face. "While you were held captive, she did see you, she had planned to get you out, but Zusa swamped her with missions and contracts to the point she was neck deep in papers."

"You mean money."

_Slam_!

Diamond jolts in her seat as Kodlak's fist pounds into the top of the table. She looks to find his face grim, his lips pressed tight and his face etching with anger. Heads of the Companions have turned. "Diamond, your stubbornness is what amused me during your training, but it's the one thing that is making me want to put you on shoveling duty for months."

"What . . .?" Diamond breathes.

"All those years in training with the Brotherhood, then with me and the Companions, it is surprising to think you do not see. Has your faith in your friend dropped that much?"

A spark of anger – not, a fire of anger. So much for trying to keep things quiet. "Yes, it did because when I thought knew everything about her, she goes and reveals that she had a completely different life and led to the destruction of my faction!"

"She didn't have a choice, Diamond." Kodlak says deeply. His voice sending a chill down her spine. "She was in debt to Zusa for everything she did, and when she found you in there, she had tried everything in her power to stop you, but Zusa sent her on missions because she _knew_!"

Diamond stiffens and swallows.

"Zusa knew the connection between you and Libby without even consulting Libby about it. So she sent Libby on missions so she couldn't do anything to help you! She had no choice, Diamond."

_I didn't have a choice_!

"Why are you even defending her?!" Diamond shouts, shooting up from her seat. "You've know her for months, I've known you for _years_! But then she comes along and within short time, everyone seems to like her now! You're just like her! You just throw away everything we had for something or someone else!"

Diamond's stomach sinks the moment the words escape her lips. She wanted to keep being angry, but tears are streaming down her cheeks. Kodlak is staring at her, his face so cold it would put any expert assassin to shame. It freezes Diamond to the core, and she almost wants to drop on her knees and say she's sorry.

Slowly, Kodlak rises from his seat. The chair softly groaning against the floor. "I do not favor her more than you Diamond, there are things in her face, in her eyes, that I can see. Things that I can understand."

"And things I can't?"

"No." he says, his voice almost making her cringe. "You might think you've been through hell, but as much as you don't want to hear it, Libitania has been through so much more, I can assure you. And the reason you don't understand is because you are not ready. Libby did everything because she cares."

"You say that all the time! What do you see in her? When can I prove to you that I'm ready?!"

Kodlak gives her a dead stare. "When you stop acting like a child."

He then proceeds to leave the table ever so calmly, walking with a grace that was honed by expert years of training. He has his hands behind his back, and he doesn't look over his shoulder back at Diamond.

Eyes soon return to her when Kodlak exits into the living quarters. Some return to her, others simply lower their head, probably still in the shock of hearing Kodlak grow so cold. Diamond is still standing in front of her seat. Tears are streaming down her cheeks as the word constantly repeats in her head.

_Child_.

_Child_.

Diamond carefully, slowly, woodenly, walks her way out towards the back porch and simply sits down in her chair. The cold doesn't even bother her even though there's at least an inch of snow on the ground.

She wants to scream, to cry and scream and destroy everything in her path. She wants to walk right up to Libby's mansion and scream at the stupid itch on how she ruined Diamond's life once again. She wants to roar to the heavens, to the Divines that it's all her fault.

And yet . . . could he be right?

What difference would it make? Has Kodlak given up on her? If she just keeps sitting around and being angry all the time at Libby, what will it accomplish? Libby was practically raised by Zusa with the Faceless before Zusa let her go to the Guild, and when Zusa discovered Diamond, she wanted Diamond. Kodlak had said Libby tried to help, but Zusa found out about their friendship, and sent Libby out on mission after mission. Perhaps she couldn't resist because of fear of Zusa? Or because she had threatened Diamond's life?

And even after Libby left, Zusa had her sent to Cidhna Mines as punishment. And there, there Libby was whipped and beaten and tortured by the guards for her crimes all across Skyrim.

Diamond doubles over, bracing her head between her hands. She sighs, tears still streaming. She wants to scream but she can't, because it would be – _childish_. So she grips her hair, tightly, enough to give her a headache. Tears flow more and she tries to breathe.

But she just cries. Cries and cries and cries. When was the last time she had a moment like this? Let her tears flow freely and with them the pain and agony sliding off her cheeks.

It's not that she hasn't cried, she hasn't _let_ herself cry since . . . since the Brotherhood? No, probably since the Faceless. Since she watched Maleek –

Diamond sighs. What is she to do now? Go to Libby? Act more open with Libby to prove to Kodalk she can be an adult?

Finally releasing her hair, her follicles relaxing with gratitude, Diamond sits up and crosses her legs. She pushes her hair back, she wipes her eyes with the heels of her hand. Still more pool down her cheeks.

Behind her, the door softly opens and careful steps approach her. Footsteps approach her, stopping just behind her, and no words come. Aggravated her voice comes out harsh, regardless of who it is as she says, "What do you want?"

"To see if you were okay."

Diamond nearly wants to smash her head into the wooden post to her left when she hears the voice belonging to Vilkas. And it certainly didn't help in calming down her anger she's ready to just unleash on the next dumbass that she comes across.

"Why do you care?"

"There was just something in your eyes when Kodlak –"

"I don't want to talk about it anymore."

Nonetheless, Vilkas steps around to her front, pulling up a chair next to her and sitting down. Not exactly facing her upfront, but slightly turned out so he can look out into the courtyard. He doesn't say anything.

"You don't have to stay." Diamond says, lifting her legs and hugging her knees.

"I want to."

"Why?"

Vilkas looks to her, his eyebrows furrowing. "Because there's something off about you right now. And I saw it the same day that I had, that I had called you a child."

Diamond winces at the word. How is that one word her weakness? Why does it make her shrivel up, yet fuels her anger like fuel?

"And I wanted to apologize. For what I had said. You just, do things to me."

"Oh, how flattering." She says flatly.

"You know Diamond, do you have any idea how highly annoying when you become withdrawn when things don't go your way." Vilkas then says. Diamond turns her head away, keeping her mouth shut. "It's immature and _that_ is what Kodlak is trying to tell you. You are acting like a child, sitting around pouting about things that happened in the past when you could be moving on with your life, putting them all behind you. Yet you're hanging onto this anger hoping that everyone will feel sorry for you and gang up on Libby."

"Like I haven't suffered so much? Do _you_ have any idea how annoying it is that everyone feels sorry for the person who ruined my life?!"

"She didn't ruin your life, Zusa Phoenix did. And he's not taking her side over yours, he's just wise enough and mature enough to listen to both sides of the story and understand why things happened the way they did. He said Libby tried to help you, she wanted to help, but Zusa got in the way. It was Zusa who captured you and turned your faction against you. It was Zusa who knew about your friendship and kept sending Libby away so she couldn't help. It was Zusa who killed your friends!"

Diamond retracts. Oh gods, there he is again – those sapphire blue eyes shining in the darkness.

"It was all her fault that everything happened to you! But because you're too afraid to go after her, you just settle for bullying Libby because she's the most convenient."

"Bully her?! She was there on the emperor's ship! She –"

"Admit it Diamond, you have no excuse! She tried to help you, but she couldn't. Because you and Zusa wouldn't let her."

Finally Diamond screams. Her throat quickly becoming raw from its power. It echoes throughout the courtyard, springing her up from her seat. She takes her chair and hauls it across the courtyard. It smashes against the wall, breaking into splintered bits. "This is so unfair!"

"Unfair? How?"

"Because finally I had reason to believe that Libby was not perfect!"

A moment of silence and more tears are falling. "Perfect? What do you mean?"

"All the time Libby and I were together, she was always the smart one, the skilled one, the one who could pay off any guard! Even when she's the bad guy, everyone just loves her and thinks she can do no wrong! She was always so _fucking_ perfect!" Diamond screams, more tears coming from the pain in her throat. "And to everyone else I was always the _kid_ who did nothing but screw around! Well I am mature, and I've proven that I can take care of myself since I was young!

"But no! Apparently, I'm still the child, and Libby is the perfect little bitchy assassin who can do no wrong, and has had a horrible life that justifies all of her wrongdoings!"

She collapses. Her knees just fall beneath her and the snow-covered pavement is bracing her knees. Her chest is heaving and her voice is struggling between a scream and a sob, in turn creating an ugly noise that doesn't sound human.

Her shaking hands cover her mouth, she tries to will her body to stop, but not that she's gotten her breakdown in motion, it's as if her body is taking the opportunity to let everything all out.

All of her pain and suffering that has since made her grow numb and crack open a deep abyss that has no end and is full of darkness. Her care of Vilkas seeing her is gone with the wind, and the ache of hearing Kodlak – the Harbinger she's loved more than anyone in the world – calling her a child wracks her body.

She's so numb from her crying, her cheeks tingling her brain barely registers the surprise as she feels Vilkas' thick arms wrap around her and pull her close to his chest. He isn't wearing his usual armor so his chest is so warm, despite her knees frozen to the bone. And he's wearing the jacket she unknowingly borrowed. She sobs over and over, her body shaking like a leaf.

"It's unfair." She nearly whines. "It's so unfair."

Vilkas rubs her back and her body tingles when she feels his callus fingers gently caress her cheek, wiping away her tears. "I know. But who ever said life was fair?" He coos to her. "I'm sorry you think no one understands you. You've been through a lot, we all know it. In fact I think it's one of the reasons why we all admire you."

Diamond carefully angles her head up to see Vilkas' warm eyes staring down at her. His face looks relatively cleaner, and his five o'clock shadow is emphasized by the overcast above.

"You've been through so much, and you're still so young. But holding onto the anger of the past is not going to be beneficial for you. You can't expect everyone to hold onto pain like you do."

Diamond sniffles, wiping away another tear, and rubbing her arms.

"You know what Kodlak told me? The past is history, the future is a mystery, but today –" his finger is underneath her chin and he tentatively lifts her eyes to his. "– today is a gift. That's why they call it the present. You're still young Diamond, and you are going to have many more hardships in your life. I'm afraid this is only the beginning for you. But you are also going to have many more blessings and memorable experiences. So you can't give up."

Despite herself, Diamond nuzzles into Vilkas' chest further, savoring his warmth in fear it'll go away in seconds and he'll be telling her he'll make her run three miles for acting like such a whelp. But instead, he embraces her further, resting his cheek on the top of her head. His breath warm against the back of her neck.

Her breath hitches as she feels Vilkas' callus fingers brush her cheeks. Her shoulders quiver and Vilkas holds her tighter.

"What do I do now? If I can't be angry, what am I supposed to do?"

"That's up to you Diamond. I'm sorry, but I don't think I can help."

Diamond sighs. "I hope Kodlak can forgive me."

"I'm sure he will. Come on Diamond, you know him." Vilkas chuckles. "He can't stay mad at you. Not if you show him reasons not to."

Diamond gives a small smile. She knew everything that's happening; she knew how close Vilkas was holding her, knew how badly she wanted to wrap her arms around him. Knew how she almost didn't want to move because she didn't want to ruin such a warm moment with him.

But her knees are numb and her body is still crawling with goosebumps. So she leans away and rubs her eyes. "I need to go." She says.

"Will you be alright?" Vilkas asks as the two of them rise up from the snow.

"Apart from having to change pants, I think I'll be fine." To her surprise, Vilkas actually smiles with a chuckle. Diamond fixes her hair, massaging her scalp before turning to Vilkas. "Are my eyes red? Do I look like I've been crying?"

Vilkas stares at her, tilting his head slightly to the side. The corners of his mouth turn upwards, and Diamond prepares herself for the onslaught of verbal insults. But instead, Vilkas says, "No. You look tough as nails."

The words are so familiar, but at the same time so forgotten that Diamond goes rigid. Against the white background of the snow, through the flurry of the flakes that fall from the sky, Vilkas' face blurs – and replaced with sapphire blue eyes, sunshine golden hair, and small black inklings of a tattoo that wraps around his bicep.

Diamond's eyes water again as she sees the background blur into her old room of the Faceless headquarters, and there . . . there is Maleek.

_Maleek_.

Standing there, dressed in a grey tunic that shows his extraordinary muscles and where the collar dips low enough to show tendrils of that tattoo.

"_No." he said. "You look tough as nails_."

He takes a step forward, and like a fog clearing, he is gone. His face, his eyes, everything is whispered away like mist in the wind. And there is Vilkas again, approaching.

Swallowing back her squeak, Diamond doesn't know what to think when Vilkas takes her chin again in his hand and tilts her head up.

Her body practically flares to life when she feels his lips on her forehead. And then her cheek. Rigid but also weak, Diamond's one hand reaches up, grasping Vilkas' firm bicep – the muscles feeling like a rock covered with skin. When his lips leave, he rests their foreheads together, his hand drifting to cradle the nape of her neck.

Diamond makes herself step back carefully. She looks up to Vilkas, well aware of her gleaming eyes. "Thank you Vilkas." She whimpers.

Without waiting for a response, she turns on her heels and heads inside the hall. She returns moments later, wearing her pink fur-lined cloak as Vilkas is heading inside. She passes him, giving a reassuring but small smile as they pass. She brushes her fingers against his for a moment, wanting to remember the callus feeling and remember it comforted her.

Then she pulls the hood up over her head and sets out into the snowy Whiterun.

* * *

Sitting at Nassari's desk in the princess's chambers in the castle, Libitania sighs as she looks over the map of the rebel's camps she bought off of Dabiyrrya.

After she and the Companions returned to Jorrvaskr, she left them without much of a goodbye. She didn't know why she needed to go Dragonsreach, but she just knew she needed to be in Nassari's company – to be with a friend she knew she could trust with such delicate but impactful information.

She has it. A map of the rebel camps. Rebels who are supporting Erelia Glendeylin – the lost heir of the Snow Elves.

This map is not leaving her sight, and she will protect this with her life. She doesn't even want to know the possibilities the Imperials or the Stormcloaks could do with this.

What had surprised her the most is how many of them there are. Each camp was marked with a red X, and some of them were even overlapping they were so close, many possibly being hidden in secret gardens or grottos or caves.

Strangely, she almost felt obligated to share this information with Nassari. After hearing the reasons why that Stormcloak bastard sent a Faceless assassin, and hearing Nassari herself speak of Erelia, the admiration in her eyes, it would almost be wrong not to.

As of now, the princess is freshening up in her bathing chamber after she came back from a ride with Jarl Balgruuf. Libby had personally let herself in through the princess's balcony, not wanting to wait around for some servant to show her the way. She nearly scared the fur off of Nassari when the Khajiit princess found her sitting in the armchair by the fireplace. After a laugh and hugs were exchanged, she disappeared into the bathroom to bathe.

Listening to the splashing and pouring water, Libby taps the tip of her pen against the map surface.

This is it. She knew every spot where the camps were posted. She knew all of their locations, right down to the very stone set on the earth, and yet, she hasn't even made the slightest attempt to go out and search them.

She argues with herself because she's worried they'll shoot her on sight, or try to capture her, but she knew her real reasons. She was nervous, afraid.

What could she do? What place does she have doing with all of this information? She's just an assassin. What originally was a simple plan to find out about the existence of the supposed lost heir to the Snow Elves, has now become a form of . . . obsession with the rebels and what they plan to do to overthrow both the Imperials and the Stromcloaks.

Can she really do it? Can she really rise up her own army powerful enough to overthrow both ruling factions? It would seem everyone is more than willing to fight for her. But will she be willing to rule over the thrown? There will still be those who oppose, but that's just how the humans are.

Libby chuckles, listening to herself. _Humans_. How humans are. Because it's clear that Khajiit, Orcs, Argonians, and Elves all support Erelia, it's just a matter of the mortals', humans' opinion.

The sound of the lock of the bathroom door makes Libby twitch in her seat. She looks over her shoulder to find Nassari walking out with steam belching behind her. She wears a warm, cotton robe, towel drying her fur. She looks to Libby and smiles – and Libby curses herself for not putting more effort into her return smile.

Because now, "Is something the matter, Solantir?"

Libby looks to her unsure on how to respond. She parts her lips to say something, but clamps it shut. "It is complicated." Libby mumbles in Elsweyr.

Nassari drapes the towel over the back of the chair she sits down in, pressing her robs flat against her bum. As she's sitting, Libby inconspicuously shifts her multiple papers to cover the map of the rebel camps.

"What seems to be bothering you, my friend?"

Libby looks to her friend for a few heartbeats before she abruptly gets up from the chair and heads to the large windows, pulling shut the curtains.

"Libitania –"

"Please, just take a seat and I will explain. But it is not for everyone's ears." Libby says, hoping her eyes look as desperate as she feels as she looks to the princess.

Nassari seems to understand and actually assists Libby by closing the door to the chamber, and then closing the bedroom door, locking it securely. It takes Libby seven minutes to search the spacious suite for any spyholes or signs of danger; seven minutes for her to lifts the framed paintings on the stone walls, tap at the floorboards, seal the gap between the door and the floor with her weatherworn cloak, and close the drapes to each of the windows, locking them in place.

When she is certain that no one can either hear or see them, Libitania walks back over to the desk and takes back her seat. Once comfortable, she raises her palms to the princess. "Okay, look, before I begin, you just need to know that what I am about to tell you, it is highly confidential information and can put your life in serious risk."

"Comforting, Libitania."

Libby doesn't smile. "I'm serious Nassari. It is risky, and I'm sorry, but I feel you need to know." The princess nods and stiffens in her seat, her hands gripping her knees.

As succinctly as she can, she tells Nassari what she had encountered when rescuing Kodlak from the Silver-Hand.

She first explained her own backstory with Dabiyrrya and how she had to expel her from the Guild, and then went on to explain how she had formed her own little deal with the Prince of Morthal, using the money she had paid him off to hire the Silver-Hand thugs to try and kill Kodlak. She tells Nassari about how Dabiyrrya was really trying to earn enough money to join the rebel forces in support of Erelia, hoping to gain respectable armor and weapons. The clock chimes midnight by the time she finishes telling Nassari about the final arrow she'd fired at Dabiyrrya, and how she had given her a small ransom in gold before firing what would have been a killing shot. When she stops speaking, Nassari's eyes are bright with sorrow and wonder.

"Nice to hear the prince is spending your return money wisely."

Libitania shrugs. "Tell me about it. But I'm afraid there is one more thing."

Nassari's brows rise. Libitania sighs, her heartbeat pounding against her ribcage as she turns to the desk, slipping the map of the camps out from under the pile of papers. She goes and sits in the next available armchair, sprawling the map across the glass coffee table between them. Nassari's eyes narrow trying to read the map and find a connection with the random X's scattered across the map. Some clustered in places and looking like red ants.

"This is a map of the rebel camps." Libby quietly murmurs. Nassari's eyes widen and Libby could've sworn the color drained from her furry face. "I bought it off of Dabiyrrya for the three bags of gold. I'm assuming she had the closest locations memorized enough to give it to me. No questions asked."

Nassari snorts. "No wonder you expelled her from the Guild. What member would be so careless?"

"Maybe someone who has faith in me." Libby says, her face aiming towards the fire.

"It seems rather sweet." Nassari says as she leans closer to the map."

"Or perhaps foolish."

Nassari's head sharply turns to Libitania, her eyes wide and suddenly feral. "Libitania, you don't plan on –"

"No," she answers. "I just, I don't know what to do with it."

"Well you bought it for some reason. Does this mean you support the rebels?"

Libitania grows rigid, her breathing catching in her throat. Her chest shakes as she inhales. "I, I don't know." she says as she deflates into her chair.

"How do you not know?" Nassari asks softly. "You bought a map with the locations of each and every one of the rebel camps in Skyrim. This is a dangerous tool that could end the entire war. If you refuse to give it to Ulfric or general Tullius, then what other explanation is there?"

"It's just . . . it's complicated, Nassari." Libby says, her voice quaking.

"There's nothing complicated about it. It is the difference between right and wrong. What started out as you clarifying the existence of Erelia Glendeylin, has now turned into you following the rebels every move. What business do you have with them? Are you only hoping to make profit?"

Ice shoots through Libitania's veins. "This has nothing to do with the Guild."

"Then why else are you burying yourself and perhaps even, burdening yourself with this information?"

"I – I don't know!"

She really doesn't. She's asked herself that question a million times, but she always comes up with no answers. Libby rises from her seat, trying to control her rapid heartbeat. She begins pacing in front of the fireplace.

"Maybe it's just, I'm curious." Libitania sighs. "Like, what if she's not ready for such a responsibility like ruling over the entirety of Skyrim? In fact, what if she'll never be ready for it? And she hasn't even spoken a word, so of course the rebels are going to assume she's in allegiance, but please who could really have seen the lost heir to the Snow Elves?"

"Do you not understand her importance in this war, Solantir? Erelia has given Skyrim and her people hope." Nassari says as she rises from her seat. "I haven't seen such a thing . . . ever, in my time. The stories I had been told by my guards," the princess pauses, her throat tightening as she thinks of her beloved men now resting in the cold earth. "Creatures all across of Tamriel are singing in jubilance, banding together to ensure she shall rise. That kind of brotherhood, sisterhood, I didn't even know it could exist among different kinds. I was once told an Orc saved a Dunmer, and an Argonian and a Bosomer clanked mugs in song of her."

For some odd reason, Libitania wants to cry. "I just, I don't know what to do. I was never raised to be a political person, and I'm just worried that the rebels are using her for their own advantage."

"Do you have so little faith in people?"

"Apart from you, I haven't been proven otherwise."

"Then what will you be a part of, Libitania?" the princess asks, stepping towards the assassin. "Who will you stand for? Or will you only stand for yourself?"

Her throat aches, but Libitania force herself to speak. "Now that I'm finally free, I'm scared, okay? I am scared, Nassari! I am scared that if I get involved I could wind right back in the mines or I could end up on the butchering block and so could you. I know what I told you is dangerous, and I know where you stand after what had happened to your people, but I've seen enough death in my lifetime, and I don't want to be a part of that?"

"So you're just going to let Ulfric keep dividing Skyrim into a racist country? You're going to just let General Tullius keep allowing the Thalmor to rule over certain kingdoms with an iron fist? When will you say _enough_, Libitania?"

Nassari stalks to her, grabbing her by the wrists.

"What will make you stop running and face what is before you? If the suffering of other people won't make you take action then what will?"

"I am just one person Nassari." Libitania's eyes are watery now.

"One person who survived Cidhna Mines – one person who avenged the death of her father, one person who despite all odds is still breathing." Despite her seemingly tight grip, Nassari's hand is gentle as it touches Libitania's chin. Up this close, she's a little more than self-conscious to have the princess see all of the scars that map her body. "You are a survivor, Solantir. It is written all over your body."

"Written into my skin, into my _bones_ through an iron-tipped whip." Libitania almost sneers. "I don't care how strong you think I am, I don't – I don't want –" her lip quivers. "I don't want another scar." She nearly whines like a child.

"Maybe life isn't about avoiding the bruises, maybe it's about collecting the scars to prove that you survived. They tell a story, Solantir; a reminder of times when life tried to break you, but failed."

Libitania has to stop her lip from snarling. "You have _no_ idea what sort of things I endured, Nassari; in and out of the mines. My life has basically been a living hell. And I can guarantee that if history dares to repeat itself, there is no force in this world that will be able to stop me. Not even myself."

Nassari doesn't seem to take any offense form Libitania's cold words. "I might not know what _you_ endured, Solantir, but I know what my people endure in those mines, in those prisons every day. And I can only do so much. I need Erelia's help, in any way she can."

"You've never even met her."

"I wish I would've. I wish I could." Nassari takes Libitania's hand. "While it is a lot to ask you, if you're not doing all of this for yourself, then will you do it for me?"

"I thought I was." Libitania amuses with a ghost of a smile. She shrugs. "I suppose I could; it could put some use into my findings. And I won't really rust anyone else with this."

Nassari smiles. "Then I am honored. Just promise me, Libitania," Nassari says as she holds her hand. "That you will try and help me in freeing my people."

"_Free_ Elsweyr?"

Despite herself and their conversation, oddly, but perhaps beneficially, it doesn't scare Libitania as much as she thought it should've.

So she looks to the princess and smiles. "I promise."

* * *

Seated in her chair atop her balcony, Erelia Glendeylin stares out across the wide plains. What once were green like emerald gems, are now covered in blankets of snow and ice. A world of fragile things. She only wears her evening gown. She doesn't feel cold though; it never mothered her anyway. It was in her blood.

As her heart beats in her chest, she can feel the power. The power that has been blessed in her bloodline for generations. The power that had nearly destroyed her as a child, and what nearly obliterated her kingdom before she received training.

By now it feels so foreign to her, but she can still feel it growing stronger. There are days when she worries it'll burst out of her like fire, evolving too rapidly for her to control. But with the practiced breathing she memorized from her mother, it only ebbs the flame into submission.

The power in her is strong. Stronger than even her parents ever realized. It sleeps in her heart. Pacing back and forth like an impatient monster ready to be unleashed.

Erelia sets her hand on her chest.

"_When the time comes, when it awakens, I will help you my child_." Her mother had promised, but she never lived to even see Erelia use her abilities.

And they had been the last words her mother ever spoke to her. And to this day, Erelia is still waiting.

She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath to calm her rapidly beating heart. The air around her grows warm. Her heart calms, but her hands are numb with cold.

Looking to her left, she finds the potted plant in the corner, the flower's petals singed around the edges, a small black ring encircles around her seat. But then intricate details of frost are crawling towards her like fingers.

"Stop." She whispers.

The crackling of frost increases. Ground louder like breaking bones.

"_Stop_!"

A loud crack and she feels small chipped bits tickle her legs. Looking down around her, the stone of her balcony has cracked, a large fissure snaking its way towards the flower pot.

Sighing, Erelia's eyes water. She is hopeless.

She wraps her arms around herself, the cold wind picking up the skirts of her dress and blowing them behind her.


	38. Chapter 37

Diamond hurries along the poorly shoveled sidewalk of the Cloud District. Libby's house is already in sight, her black gates contrasting with the snow decorating the rest of the city. Her bodyguards are nowhere in sight, so Diamond easily climbs the wrought-iron bars and drops down the other side. She walks her way up the path to the front doors, where she finds the guards. They take one look at Diamond in her pink cloak and opens the door. With a nod of her head, Diamond enters.

The warmth of Libby's mansion nearly makes Diamond sigh, but it also stings her raw cheeks and makes her nose run. A servant gives her a friendly smile as she takes Diamond's cloak. "Welcome madam." She greets.

Diamond is about to reply when she is surprised to see the woman is Argonian. Quickly clearing her throat, she asks. "Do you know where Libby is?"

"She should be down shortly." The Argonian woman answers with a smile. She then disappears behind a pillar.

Awkwardly left in the cavernous entryway, Diamond nervously pulls at her clothes, trying to look busy. Thankfully another servant, Sazami – the Khajiit – comes walking out with a wicker basket of laundry. She notices Diamond and smiles. "Oh, welcome Diamond. It is a wonder to see you again."

"Thank you." Diamond says with a polite nod of her head. "Um, is Libby coming downstairs soon? I wish to speak with her."

"If you'd like you could go upstairs." Sazami says, then she rolls her eyes. "The child has been confined in that place for most of the evening after returning from Dragonsreach."

Diamond giggles. "Are you sure? I just feel odd standing here."

"Sure, go look around. You're welcome here anytime." She smiles and then without another word turns and heads towards her intended destination – another servant door leading down into their quarters no doubt.

Diamond rubs her hands together and starts to walk towards the massive grand staircase. Sazami had said she could look around, and while Diamond knew most of this house from previous visitations in the past, it still makes her feel so small. Libby had to have renovated the place, unless Diamond just got shorter.

Walking up the stairs, her hand gliding along the perfectly polished wood, she had to give Libby's servants grand credit. It felt like no cold was in even the smallest inch of the entire house. Everything was clean, not a speck of dust – to the point that Diamond just didn't want to touch anything it looked so expensive.

She had Libby's room memorized: second floor, a turn left and a long walk until she reaches the seventh door on her right. The plush carpet is soft beneath her feet, hall furniture offering from comfy couches and seats to tables and chairs and paintings of distant lands.

Libby's door comes up and while Diamond assumes Libby knew she is already here, she still pauses as she stares at the polished mahogany door. After a couple of nervous heartbeats, she reaches up her gloved hand to knock on the door, but it suddenly swings open. Diamond can't stop her squeak of surprise, but there's Libby behind the door, a small gathering of papers in her arm. She looks like she was heading out judging from the loose tunic and comfortable looking pants. Her brown leather boots surprisingly gleaming despite the salt that litters the pavements to help melt the snow.

Her glittering emerald eyes are wide with surprise as she says, "Diamond. What are you doing here?"

Feeling her cheeks flush pink, Diamond takes a step back, clearing her throat. "I needed to talk to you." She says by a way of greeting.

Libby leans her head over the threshold to peer into the hallway. She looks left and right before asking Diamond, "I'm assuming Sazami let you in?"

"No, it was an Argonian. Sazami told me it was okay to come upstairs to look for you. She said you've been locked up in your room all day." Diamond explains, though she tries to keep her eyes off of the stack of papers in Libby's arms.

Still, Libby lowers her arms to rest the papers against her hips. "Well, it's been a while since you've, visited. I wish you would've told me ahead of time."

Diamond shrugs. "It was a bit of a spur the moment."

Nodding her head, Libby steps aside and motions Diamond inside her room. Diamond accepts.

Stepping inside the chamber, Diamond is immediately swarmed with the smell of Libby. The room itself just smelled like her; from the sheets of her bed, to the cushions of her couch and chair, to the papers that are sloppily scattered across her desk. The smell has become so foreign, and yet is still so familiar to her. It didn't occur to her much back when they were, closer. But now, being back in her rooms, it's like relearning the smell again, the atmosphere.

Diamond sits down onto the couch, sinking into the plush cushions as Libby walks over to her desk and sets the stack of paper down. While curiosity is tugging at her like an annoying string, Diamond makes herself comfortable as Libby comes over. But she doesn't sit down; obviously, this is going to be a quick visit.

"I sure hope you're not going anywhere." Diamond says.

"And why is that?"

Diamond folds her lips and then takes a deep inhale, exhaling through her nose. "I just wanted to talk to you."

That makes Libby raise her eyebrows, a couple of blinks and a swallow. "About what?" as Libby speaks she takes a seat on the couch, but it's still a small set of space between them. It's rather upsetting, to think that they have grown so apart that Libby thinks Diamond is going to attack her at any moment. But yet, she still doesn't look afraid.

How is supposed to start this? While her intuition doesn't want her to apologize until Libby says is first, after her argument with Kodlak, she needed to grow up. So she'll have to swallow her pride. Diamond takes a deep breath.

"I wanted to apologize, for my behavior. I know I've been rather aloof with you, and I know you understand why; but I just wanted to apologize because I know you've at least been trying." Libby slowly nods her head. "Now this doesn't mean that I forgive you –"

"I don't expect you to." Diamond's eyebrows rise at Libby's voice. So soft spoken and timid. "I know I don't deserve it."

Diamond blinks and takes another deep breath. "– But I've come to terms now to believe that it's in the past now. And despite my better judgement, I can't punish you for that now."

Libby nods again, a sad smile on her face.

"But still, I don't know if I can ever trust you again." Diamond forewarns. Her heart is pounding in her chest, her blood rumbling to her ears. She focuses on keeping her voice steady. "How that will affect our future, I don't know. I honestly don't. Maybe we'll recover, maybe we won't; but I will admit that there are some things that I have missed. But I still need to recover."

"I understand." Libby says, folding in his lips. "But if I can ask, what brought this on so suddenly?"

Diamond tries to hide her smirk, and fails. "You don't really believe I've grown up over the past years?"

"I do. I've seen it. But this is just so sudden that I feel like something must've happened."

"Even so, it's none of your business anyway." Diamond says by way of answer.

She watches Libby deflate, or more rather retract fearfully, worried she's crossed a line that will jeopardize their new beginning.

Quickly Diamond adds, "But I appreciate the concern."

As Libby gives a nod and a reassuring smile, she timidly says. "And you know I am sorry too, about what happened those years ago."

"Well I do now."

"I know you were waiting for me to apologize, and believe me I've had every intention of doing so, it's just –"

"I wasn't giving you the opportunity." Diamond finishes, trying not to roll her eyes as she repeats the very same words that Kodlak had said to her.

"Not just that, but I've been getting swamped with work and such, things I need to work on myself, and I just, I felt bad. And I didn't think you wanted to talk to me after our little, battles." says Libby.

"Those did contribute ins some manner." Diamond nods. The two girls share a small chuckle. And as Diamond watches Libby get up from her seat to go over to her desk, she has to admit, she did feel relatively lighter than when she first walked into the manor.

Still, now with her curiosity replacing her long-held anger, she suddenly wants to ask Libby so many questions. _What did you tell Kodlak? What personal hell drove you to join up with the Faceless? What ever happened on your birthday when your parents died?_ But still, Diamond knew it still wasn't her place, especially after she told Libby she can't fully trust her.

Diamond sighs. It's a start, and with one step at a time, perhaps they could recreate what they had lost.

"If I may," Libby asks, and Diamond looks to her. "I need to be somewhere, so I need us to leave." She says.

"Oh, right." Diamond says. It was too bad, judging from the smell coming from the kitchen, it would seem one of her servants has made something enticingly mouthwatering. But she knew Libby was on her way somewhere from the moment she knocked on her door, and she doesn't want to overstay her welcome since it's obvious Libby isn't going to let her be alone here.

Rising form her seat, Diamond rubs her arms as Libby gathers her things. Once she's ready, she motions a hand to Diamond and she's the first to head towards the door, and leave. Libby follows, closing the door behind her.

The two walk together down the long hallway, Diamond admiring the giant oil paintings, the polished hallway furniture and careful not to knock into any expensive looking potted plants.

As they walk, Libby speaks up, "I really appreciate you coming here, Diamond."

Diamond looks to the assassin, and she can see Libby's eyes gleaming. "Thank you for having me. I know it was sudden and all, but still . . ."

"Of course. Of course." Libby says with assurance.

"If I may, what is it exactly you were doing?"

Diamond watches as Libby's face remains skillfully neutral, but her arms slightly fidget to grip the papers tighter. She watches Libby's eyes switch between the need to lie, or to tell the truth after their, compromising talk.

"Do you want the truth?" Libby asks, but it's the seriousness in her tone that made Diamond's spine tingle. Is she really going to tell her? And if so, it's probably something important.

They make it down to the first floor, the cavernous entry hall making their footsteps echo against the marble floors. They stop just at the base of the stairs, Libby on the last step. Diamond looks to her, her hand on the railing post. "I mean," she says with an indecisive shrug. "Sure. But if it's too confidential . . ."

No, she really wants to know now. If there's one thing Diamond can't control, it's her love and _need _to know of secrets. She steps closer to Libby as she looks around the mansion. "Then we're going to have to go back upstairs."

Diamond's shoulders slouch. But she hears Libby laugh.

"I'm just kidding, but come on, follow me."

Diamond does, and they go back towards one of Libby's many formal living rooms. Diamond sits down, patting her thighs with childish excitement. But she suddenly pauses when she sees Libby closing all of the drapes, and double checking the perimeter of the room – just as she does when she's about to talk about something important. And the expression on her face didn't help at all either.

She was completely serious, perhaps even looking a little worried as she looks around one more time before sitting down next to Diamond. "Now look, what I'm about to tell you, I don't need your judgement, I don't need your opinion; I just need you to listen and to understand. This isn't for me, Diamond. At least, I don't think it is for me."

"What –?"

"Also understand that this information is very sensitive, alright. So you do _not_ go about speaking this to anyone. I need you to show me you're as mature as I think you are."

Diamond gulps. Libby's tone is so serious, so cold. Whatever this is, it sounds like it has the possibility to change the world. Libby stares her dead on, waiting for a response. So Diamond blinks and gives a nod of her head.

Libby then leans back and turns her attention to the stack of papers she was carrying. She shifts aside a small portion of the top until she comes to a map. A map of Skyrim, if Diamond has to guess. When Libby lays it out, she's a little baffled to find it marked with a variety of red X's. Some of them are gathered together like ants, then others are spread across each hold and are much more secluded.

"This is a map of the rebels camps who support Erelia Glendeylin." Libby speaks.

Silence. Diamond's heart nearly explodes before sinking into her stomach and out her asshole.

"I had bought it off of Dabiyrrya before shooting at her from the battlements." Libby adds. "I've been studying it for days now, and I have almost all of it memorized right down to the very stone."

"Wha–? What? How did –? Why did you?" Diamond is speechless. All she can do is stutter. This is more than what she had thought. This is practically mind boggling. Here is a map of the _real_ rebel camps in support of Erelia Glendeylin! This is more than something powerful. This has the capability to change the course of the war!

"I didn't know what to do with it, so I've decided to gather the information for Nassari." Libby adds.

Diamond's chest compresses, a pressure that is being added on every time Libby opens up her mouth. Diamond is even worried she'll fall into cardiac arrest.

Libby has information on the rebels and their camps, and now she's giving it all the Princess Nassari of Elsweyr. If the Stormcloaks or the Imperials get their hands on this map . . .

Does this mean she supports Erelia too? Has she chosen her side of the war? She looks up to Libby, whose eyes are as bright as a green wildfire.

"So what does this mean for you?" Diamond asks.

"Frankly I don't think it means anything for me." Libby says shaking her head. "I'm just gathering the information for Nassari." She turns away to stare at the brewing fireplace. "I'm not in support of anyone in the war. Not even Erelia." As she says her name, Libby's voice hitches slightly. "I'm just gathering information."

Diamond's spine tingles. The way Libby is saying it, it's like she's telling herself more than she's telling Diamond.

"Now you can't tell anyone about this. Do you understand?" Libby commands.

"Does Farkas know?"

"No. I'm too afraid to tell him. I don't know how he'll react."

Diamond nods. "I understand."

"Listen, what I've told you, it could put your life in danger. I almost denied speaking about it because I was worried for you, but after what we had talked about . . ."

"And I can take care of myself." Diamond adds. She swallows as she connects Libby's words to what Kodlak had said. How she almost lied to Diamond again to keep her safe. Could it really have been the same subject when she was in the Faceless? As Libby gathers papers, she can see small points of the scars on Libby's back. "But this is . . . this is all just, astonishing. I can't believe that there's actual proof of the existence of the rebels."

"And remember, you have to take this to your grave. If either side finds out –"

Diamond nods again. "I understand. You have my word. So, are you headed to Dragonsreach?"

"Yes, I've pinpointed a couple of camps close to Whiterun that Nassari can go to."

"She's going to the camps?!"

"Of course she is." Libby sighs. "Believe me I had the same reaction. But it's Nassari, with the rumors going around, when they see her, they'll practically kiss her furry toes."

"So the rumors are true?"

"They will be. She hasn't had any contact with them, until now."

"I'm assuming you're going with her?" Diamond asks, peering closer to the map. It's still so fascinating.

"Yes." Libby says quietly. "I'm only going as a guard. I don't plan on saying anything. Which is what we agreed on."

"How are you going to explain that to Kodalk?"

"I've got something in mind. I'm more worried about how she's going to convince Jarl Balgruuf to let her go. She'll be gone for at least, a handful of days. The trip alone will take a majority of one, and if she's going to work out negotiations, that could take another two, or three."

"Are you going to be alright?" Diamond asks. Because she can see the nervousness in Libby's emerald eyes as she was speaking about the rebels. Diamond hasn't seen her that scared since she had talked about Mercer Frey.

"I guess so. I'm just going there to protect her, at least along the trip." Libby sighs. She begins to fold up the map and holds it away in the inside pocket of her cloak. She begins to gather the papers. "I just hope that once we meet, they'll send members out to escort Nassari from further on."

"You don't like being just the bodyguard to Her Highness?" Diamond chuckles.

"No, I just don't like being around people whose mere existence could cost me my life."

"Are you going to ask about Erelia?" Diamond almost bites her tongue when she sees Libby stiffen.

"No, I don't plan to. I just said I'm there for decoration, practically." Libby sighs.

"Well, the best of luck to you." Diamond grants. She rises with Libby and they head for the archway and towards the front entry hall. "And, stay safe."

Libby looks over her shoulder to the Companion and smiles. "Thank you."

"When will you leave?"

"I don't know. I'm still gathering information. It was funny, she said she almost wanted to thank me. Now I'm finally giving her something to do, she claimed." Libby says with a nervous chuckle.

"And you'll be coming back, right?" Diamond asks.

Libby looks to her, and while she smiles, there's still a small uneasiness. "Don't you know who I am?" Before letting Diamond answer, she turns away saying, "But I really should be going. I'll try and see you before I leave, if not, I'm sorry."

"And if so, then be safe. And also –!" Diamond follows. Libby turns. "Don't forget out trip to Glenmoril Coven."

Libby's shoulders sag. She swears softly as she leans against a console table. "That's right. I was rather hoping Kodlak had found a better solution."

Diamond chuckles. "Will you be back in time?"

"It depends on how long Kodalk will grant me a delay. I know he might not be happy."

Diamond shrugs. "I mean, he's pretty patient. Hey, he held up with me for some years."

The girls chuckle and Libby adjusts her papers. "Alright. I've got to get going."

"Right, right. Sorry I keep distracting you." Diamond says as she follows Libby to the doors. She grabs her pink cloak, throwing it around her shoulders.

The two leave, Libby locking the house behind her. The two girls simply let the crunching snow be their music as they walk down the path of Libby's house. When they get to the gates, Libby pulls her hood up over her head.

"I'll see you around Diamond. And, thank you for stopping by."

"Thank you, for having me." Diamond smiles.

The girls share a smile before Libby is the first to turn away and continue on her path towards Dragonsreach. Diamond stares at her for a moment, an odd kernel of jealousy burrowing into her chest as she thinks about Libby and Princess Nassari spending time together; talking about important things, serious things. She wishes she could join, and now that Libby's told her what she's up to, there's really no reason as to why she can't.

But then again, she's not one to get politically involved – especially when she has little to no idea on how the political system works. Also because she's not one to epically change the fate of Skyrim and her people.

Still, to be able to have the chance to see Erelia Glendeylin in person . . . A living heir of the Snow Elves. Diamond starts to make her walk back towards Jorrvaskr. She's confusing even herself; while she doesn't want to get involved in the dangers and divisions of politics, a part of her does believe that Skyrim could use someone like Erelia on the throne. She's just going off of what she has been told about the Snow Elves and their race, but still, all the information is the same: a prosperous race that got exterminated by the Nords for land. Though many state that the elves were here before the Nords.

It's all confusing, but still, when Diamond thinks of the battles she would have to do if she openly supported Erelia, it doesn't scare her as much as she thought it would. Could that be a good thing . . . ?

Huddling herself into her cloak, Diamond huffs a breath as she makes her way to the hall. If could just be her, but she could've sworn the flurries of snow followed her.


	39. Chapter 38

It is approaching the hour of six as Libitania sharpens her knife on her vambrace while she waits for Princess Nassari to finish getting ready. Night will be approaching, and Libitania had planned to be out of the city before nightfall. They've gone over the plans tens of times, to the point that Nassari was about ready to claw out Libby's eyes. But Libby didn't care, and she knew she wouldn't anyway. The princess knew why Libitania was acting so much stiffer than normal.

They'll be departing for the rebel camps soon, and Libitania wants to make sure that Nassari knew what she was talking about, and knew the route as detailed as Libitania. She knows how to talk to rebels, Libitania is confident in that, but if one rebel makes one accusation, if anyone draws their sword a half an inch, her multiple daggers strapped to her waist will find new homes in their throats and foreheads. Supporters of Erelia they may be.

Leaning against the doorframe of the entryway, Libitania hears the door to the bathroom click, and she stands straight to see Nassari walk out. Libitania smiles as her eyes meet with the princess's. She was resplendent and representative in a pearl-colored dress with a slim skirt pooling at her feet.

The halter neckline is crafted in gold chains and gems connecting to the bodice, and then swoops of fabric connect from intricate bicep armbands to her waistline, creating a second over-skirt. Her gold circlet is around her head, her hair donned in thick braids, pulled into a ponytail down her exposed back. Long dangling earrings emphasizing her elegant neck.

She approaches Libby, smiling. Libby returns the gesture. "You look like royalty."

"Because I am." Nassari grins. "Do you really like it?"

"You can't get more Elsweyr than that." Libby chuckles. "I've arranged for us to be taken by horseback. A carriage might draw too much attention to "locals."

"They might not provide much protection." Nassari frowns.

"Not when you have Skyrim's Assassin protecting you, Your Highness." Libby says with a dramatic bow.

Nassari chuckles. "I suppose so. And you do look quite intimidating."

Libby shrugs, but bows. She'd taken the liberty of having her Nightingale suit adjusted thanks to Tonilia. Now she has reinforcements over every weak spot she might have. She wears it like a second skin. It oddly looks much more attractive with the exquisite detailing, the extra padding, the pockets, the bits of armored decoration – but there is not one inch left to the imagination. And her swooping cape makes her no more than a shadow.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Libby asks.

"I've never been more ready in my life." Nassari says, walking into the entryway where she grabs her cobalt cloaks with fur lining.

"I'm just making sure." Libby says, well aware of the princess's tone. She thinks Libby is going to try and talk her out of going, again, for the fourth time of the day. "And I'm only trying to get you to keep your hopes, low. There's a slim to no chance that you're going to see Erelia on the first visit."

"Of course I understand that." Nassari says, clasping her cloak tight. "Still, just meeting with these people, to see their commanders and lieutenants will be an honor. And I can finally feel like I'm contributing to something in this war."

Libby nods, biting back her response. She waits until Nassari is close to the door before she heads for the balcony windows, adjusting her cloak. Given she's dressed as Skyrim's Assassin once more, she had to find a covert way to enter Dragonsreach. It still upsets her how easily she slipped past the extra guards who were supposed to be protecting Nassari. She turns back. "I'll meet you outside the city gates, just past Honningbrew Meadery."

Nassari nods. "Got it."

"You got your dagger?"

The princess laughs. "I'll be fine. But yes." She adjust the folds of her skirt to expose the glinting Dwarven dagger Libby got her just for this occasion. With a nod, Libby opens the balcony doors and waits, concealed until Nassari enters the hallway, greeting a servant passing by and shuts the door behind her.

Libby closes the balcony doors and slips over the stone balcony and crawls her way towards the floor. As she rounds towards the bridge of Dragonsreach, she peeks to see Nassari just leave through the front door with two massive guards flanking her. She can see the sadness on the princess's face upon the remembrance of her guardsmen. She has even been receiving letters from inhabitants of Elsweyr and even members of the guards' families.

Keeping her eyes on the princess, Libitania skillfully disappears into the shadows of the twilight, stalking the princess up until she reaches the front gates. From there, she's confident enough to leave the princess as she vaults over the wall and heads towards the stables. Of course she took the liberty of taking two of her Chorrolian stallions. No horse is faster than those of Cryodiil.

She finds them parked outside the stables, saddled and ready to go. Libby had forgotten to ask Nassari how she managed to get Jarl Balgruuf to let her go. But at this point it doesn't matter; she's out and Libitania is supposed to meet her at Honningbrew Meadery. Silently, she mounts Volivia, tipping the stable boy a gold coin for keeping quiet, and snaps the reins towards the northern road.

When the meadery comes up on her right she pulls Volivia aside and waits. No more than five minutes later, Nassari comes galloping along, her cobalt cloak flapping behind her in a wave of blue. They share a smile, then Libitania leads the way as they ride off.

Their destination is a camp that's suspiciously and dangerously close to the Hold. Libby scoped out the place with ease days earlier, nearly wanting to expose herself just to give them a lecture on how poor their surveillance is. She spotted a fair number of them, not exactly an army size, but enough that it peaked her interest. By now she can navigate the entire camp blindfolded.

When she learned the location was at Bleakwood Basin, a giant's settlement, it made her curious, and even more so eager to resist Nassari's request to visit. But she saw the giants already being slain, their mammoths spared. By now they had to have removed the bodies and have taken over the camp.

They had a decent supply of weapons, their blacksmith working even through the hours of the night into early twilight. Their armor was, interesting; and Libby's heart thumped hard when she saw the uniqueness and the emblem of the snow elf empire stapled on the fronts.

Libby and Nassari ride along side by side, Libby constantly swiveling her head around and around constantly checking for threats, almost hoping something would happen. Her nerves are starting to increase, and she just needs a distraction. Out of everything in her entire life: facing against bandits, stealing from priests, battling against guards and daily whippings, this is what she's so nervous about? Well, in truth she knew why.

They no doubt will have eyes on them the closer they get to the camp. Libby was surprised when Nassari had told her she sent a note to the rebels ahead of time saying she wants to visit. Libby almost clocked her right in her furry skull. But perhaps it'll bring them more of a welcome.

"Let's pick up the pace." Libby says as she looks to the sky. The sun has already set, and a dark armada of clouds are already starting to bring forth the night. While they will take advantage of the cover, Libby would like to have Nassari at least surrounded by trusted people rather than have them wandering in the dark.

The horses begin to trot, Nassari's jewelry clinking. Not much is spoken between them, neither of the girls knowing exactly what to say, or assuming the other is too lost in thought. Is Nassari is nervous, she certainly isn't showing it. Masked by a still face that would make any assassin proud.

Between the span of an hour, Libby stops the horses so that the two can stretch their legs, Nassari can preen herself, and water the horses. Once they remount and share some food that Libby packed along, their back on the trail.

Half of another hour goes by when Nassari finally speaks, "If I may ask," Libby nods. "Do you really not plan on saying anything?"

Libby folds in her lips. "Only if you don't want me to. I don't want to jeopardize any efforts you make."

"You could never. Franky I don't think they would want to mess with you." She says with an encouraging smile.

Libby barely returns it. "Their defense may be sloppy, but I have no idea how they might fight."

"No one is better than you, Libitania."

This makes Libby smile, even if only slightly.

It's another hour before Libby begins to recognize the signs they are nearing the camp. Peering her head over a large set of foliage, she can barely see the smoke beyond the horizon, the light source almost nowhere to be seen. Nod bad, not bad at all.

Libby halts the horses, and pulls out her dagger. She carefully angles it towards the light of the moon, and watches the reflection wink. Once, twice, three times. The signal she had learned during her covert observation.

Together she and Nassari wait. From a few heartbeats, to a moment, then to a minute. Then Libby breathes a sigh of relief when she sees a return signal close to the ground.

"We're here." She says to the princess. "Stay close."

Libby pulls her mask up and allows Nassari to move ahead. As they come closer to the camp, Libby adjusts her seat, preparing herself to be ready to launch in case an arrow comes flying at Nassari's chest.

They walk through the foliage, and come to the clearing where the giants' former camp lies. The rebels have already made their home here: pitched tents, bed rolls spread inside, charred skeevers over the fire. They even took one of the mammoth skeletons and lined it with pelts and leather to make a makeshift shack.

They're not exactly sheltered from the cold, but the cold never bothered anyone here in Skyrim anyway. Libby has even seen some idiots wearing leather armor exposing midriffs and shoulders and legs. Libby's own Nightingale cloak specifically designed for all weather.

There's a decent scattering of warriors around, set in places typically seen for a camp: around the fire, or in their tents. But all their heads turn when they hear the oncoming hoofbeats of the horses. Libby trots closer to Nassari as a few of them approach with their hands on their weapons. Libby's heart is beating so fast, and as they get closer, she can see their armor, and begins to reconsider to assumption on their fighting. It both terrifies and makes her feel honored as it is the armor of the snow elves, rebranded to look so new, even if the style is outdated.

Overall, the armor sets look like a blend of ebony and elven armor, but with a white and maroon color scheme. It also has a small bat motif on the collar and a Celtic knot design on parts of the armor, such as the back. The individual pieces are statistically identical to glass armor, though the lack of helmets and shields leave them at a disadvantage.

The Celtic knot was the emblem of House Glendeylin and the Glendeylin family bloodline.

They breach the border of the camp and more hands drift to the hilts of weapons. Then when Nassari removes her hood, revealing her crowned head, suddenly gasps and inhales and widening eyes spread around the camp. Libitania dismounts and while she sees some of the warriors still grow rigid, she watches them relax out of her peripherals as they helps Nassari dismount.

Fidgeting with her skirts and dusting off her bodice, Nassari looks to the camp, and walks forward. Libby keeps up, her steps not too far behind. They are here.

Libby can sense both joy, relief and sadness invade her and the princess's heart when a couple of Khajiit rebels emerge from the tents and from the shacks. Their eyes widen, and Libby can see them beginning to water form even here. Nassari brings her hands her to her lips, to cover her own gasp. The Khajiit approach and Libby can see their lips trembling.

Neither of them have braided hair like Nassari, possibly only allowed for monarchies, but they do have a number of piercings in their ears. One of them steps forward, his tears already spilling over. He drops to one knee, bowing his head low.

"No words can describe how honored I am to finally meet you, Your Majesty Princess Nassari." He says in Elsweyr.

Libby watches as Nassari takes a dep breath, her shoulders lifting high, possibly to calm herself. No doubt the massacre of those six hundred Khajiit are still giving her terrors at night. "I'm afraid I do not deserve the title as your princess." She replies. "For I have failed to protect my people at the hands of a monster."

"It is not your fault, Your Highness" the second Khajiit rebel chimes. "We understand you are doing everything you can here in Skyrim. And I speak for everyone when I say we appreciate it to the highest degree."

The first Khajiit rises and nods his head. Nassari doesn't hesitate when she gives a whimper and steps forward into his arms, tears flowing and sobs shaking her shoulders. Libby looks around and sees some of the other rebels sniffing and wiping their noses and eyes, or trying to look strong by taking deep breaths. But too see them all feeling grief and sorrow for the Khajiit rebels softens her hearts towards them a little.

Nassari pulls away from the Khajiit male and walks back towards Libby. Libby approaches her and quietly asks, "Are you alright?"

"Yes, just wanted to make sure my makeup isn't ruined." She chuckles through a sob.

Libby smiles beneath her mask as she rubs Nassari's shoulders. The princess pulls out a handkerchief and carefully wipes her eyes.

"Your Majesty," a deep male voice calls. All heads turn and the rebels part as a large Redguard man approaches wearing the same snow elf armor with simple modifications to indicate his position. Libby can see the hilt of a sword peeking over his shoulder, looking rather dull, and showing years of harrowing battles with the multitude of scars showing on the pommel and chipped crossgaurd.

He extends out his hand. "Commander Arlamen Johncar, at your service."

Nassari looks at this hand, then to him. She carefully extends her hand to his and they shake. Commander Johncar has dark skin, sprinkled with a scars crisscrossing here and there, making his face look older than he probably is. His hair is receding, and with specks within the dark brown. Libby steps up close behind her, and Commander Johncar's eyes flick to her.

"And who is your new friend?" he asks. Some of the rebels grow tense and reach for their weapons.

"She is a friend." Nassari says in Elsweyr. She turns to the commander and then says in the common language. "She is a friend. My savior, actually."

"Who is she?" Commander Johncar repeats.

Snarling, Libitania says, "Libitania Desidenius."

The entire camp goes quiet, and she feels empowered when eyes widen, even those belonging to that of the Commander. Quietly he whispers, "Skyrim's Assassin."

Libby gives a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders. "I got out."

Commander Johncar turns to Nassari. "You sure do make the most unique friends, Your Highness."

"Can she be trusted, Your Majesty?" the Khajiit male asks in Elsweyr.

Libby lifts her chin a little higher. "If I wanted her dead, she wouldn't even be here right now." she speaks in Elsweyr. More widened eyes and mouths drop agape.

"You speak Elsweyr?" the make Khajiit asks in disbelief.

Libby steps forward and continues in the language. "I picked up a few things. I've suffered at the hands of the Nords in Cidhna Mines. They chained me to the others, and I endured my whippings with the rest of them." She softens her eyes and her face as the memories come to mind. "It was through the kindness of a female prisoner from Riverhold that my wounds didn't get infected. Every night she stayed up in the long hours it took to clean my back. I owe her my life."

"What happened to her?" the second Kahjiit asks.

Libby folds in her lips, well aware her eyes are gleaming. "I never got to thank her." Her voice pitches. "One night, four overseers raped and killed her." She blinks and sniffs, and says in the common tongue. "I fight for your princess."

"If I may," Commander Johncar gently chimes. "I would like to ask how it is you came to know Her Majesty Princess Nassari."

Nassari steps forward. "She saved my life when the Nords tried to end it." When heads turn, Nassari lifts her chin high. "An unidentified Stormcloak soldier had sent a Faceless Assassin to end my life. And it was through the cunningness and bravery of Libitania that I had survived."

"Those _bastards_." A female rebel hisses, stomping her foot on the ground hard enough to stir up dust.

"What happened to him?" Commander Johncar asks, folding his hands in front of him.

"I left his head on a pike, and slaughtered the remainders of the camp. A forever reminder to the Stormcloaks and to the Faceless to stay the hell away from our princess."

She didn't even realize it herself until she said it: _Our_ princess. As if to indicate Libitania herself is not a part of either the Empire or the Nords. She could only hope they don't take it as her saying she belongs to them, or to Erelia.

Libitania is free. She does not belong to anybody. Not anymore.

The rebels seem to take it enough as they straighten out and remove their weapons. Nassari touches her shoulder and Libby gives a soft smile underneath her mask. Nassari takes her hand and lifts it, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"At least I could not ask for a better or more intimidating bodyguard." She says, her words making her mouth twitch. She probably doesn't like to call Libitania that, giving her a title so, degrading after seeing her skills. Or perhaps she still misses her own guards. She turns to the Commander. "Libitania can be trusted. She has become my dearest friend."

Commander Johncar nods, but his eyes never leave Libitania. "If we may, we have much to discuss Your Highness." He gestures to with his hand to a small pile of ruins.

The two women cock their heads and look to the Commander. He walks towards them, two rebels in pursuit, three more scouring the perimeter. Well, it's better from when she was observing from the shadows. Perhaps they did see her and tuned up their security. Either way, she and Nassari follow the Commander to reveal a small trapdoor behind a destroyed pillar.

"It's not exactly the coziest place, but our hideout is down here, and it is warmer – to a degree." He offers a gentle smile. Libby's defense softens. It was the same smile a father would give to his child. Encouraging and reassuring.

A female Bosomer opens the door and the Commander is the first to step down. There's a rustic ladder going down into a tunnel resembling that of a Nordic ruin. There's a small level of water puddling here and there, but nothing drastic.

Nassari is about to go in but Libby stops her and heads down, constantly looking back to make sure none of the rebels attack her. Libby drops down ignoring the Commander's hand of assistance. Barely sparing him a glance, she turns around and motions Nassari to come down.

The princess adjusts her skirt and carefully steps down. Libby almost wants to instruct her to avoid getting dirt on them, but she doubts Nassari cares. When the princess is at the last rung, Libby takes her hands, grabbing her by the waist and bringing her down. Nassari adjusts her cloak and doesn't even mind when the lining of her skirt gets dipped in the water.

Libby has to admit, it is drastically warmer down here – to the point that she can feel her face starting to sweat. But after years of training with Zusa Phoenix, and dealing with those confounded wrappings, she's more than used to it by now. They look to the Commander and he extends his arm, ushering them further. Libby lets Nassari go first and follows at her side.

There's a small number of dripping from the ceiling, and they're surrounded by moistened stone, making the air thick. There are torches lining the walls, casting an orange glow across the stones, and as they navigate through the halls, they pass another blacksmith, a couple of living chambers, a kitchen, a prisoner hold and a practice room with hay-stuffed mannequins. And all within it are handfuls of rebels of all races, living together in harmony. Libby almost expected to see them holding hands singing songs of harmony and enlightenment.

The Commander doesn't say anything as they step through a doorway and enter a large chamber with a high ceiling and an iron chandelier. The two guards at the front, their eyes widen and they even drop to their knees when they behold Princess Nassari and Libby in her armor of midnight.

This room as two levels, the first floor consisting of several chests, weapons racks and wooden beds lined with fur pelts. Then there are stairs against the right wall leading to the second floor, which has to be Commander Johncar's spot, given the large desk sprawled with papers, a couple of overflowing bookshelves and a large chest.

Commander Johncar walks towards the stairs and stops, motioning them step up. A couple of rebels minding their own business suddenly stumble out of the beds to see Princess Nassari. The princess must've been paying close attention to Libby as she gives a smirk and a smooth motion of her head. They climb the stairs and make their way towards the table. A male Orc rebel comes up and pulls out the wooden seat for Nassari and she gives a gentle thank you. When he motions Libby to sit in the next chair over, she remains standing shaking her head, but granting the Orc a thank you.

Commander Johncar comes up and stands across the table, leaning forward, setting his palms flat. Behind him is a large map of Tamriel, red X's marking spots all across each kingdom. "I'd first like to reiterate once more how we appreciate your support, Your Highness, and apologize for the risks that come with it. You don't have to do this, and the fact that you want to means much."

Nassari nods her head. "I am honored myself. You are all very brave to carry such a task. And I want to help you however I can."

"Now rumors have come that you are here on business with Erelia; may I ask if that is true?"

"I'm afraid not." Nassari sighs. "As you know this is my first time even meeting you."

"What about the rumor that you're collecting information within the walls of Whiterun?"

"It is, not untrue." Nassari chews on the words. "Unfortunately, I have gathered so little past the fact that they are finding Stormcloak camps here and there. Nothing of Ulfric's movements, nothing on their research of Erelia or your party. And I apologize for the lack of supplies. My contacts have been . . . limited since the massacre."

Libby's heart skips a beat. She hasn't really heard Nassari speak of the incident since she came crying into Jorrvaskr. Commander Johncar nods his head and sighs.

"Now I wish to ask – do you know where Erelia is?"

Libby holds her breath, her eyes flicking all around the room, making note of the rebels in the room. Seven total, all lightly armed.

"No." the Commander grunts in agitation. "We do not."

"Then how do you operate?" Nassari presses.

"Our intent right now is focusing on _finding_ the lost heir of the Snow Elves, hoping that if she hears of a movement that supports her, it will draw her out of hiding."

"Out of hiding? Erelia Glendeylin is dead." Libby suddenly interjects sharply. The Commander's eyes flick to her, but she doesn't back down. "She was rumored to be killed along with the rest of her family."

"You know your history, Miss Desidenius." The Commander mumbles.

"How do you know she is even alive? What research led you to that assumption?" she says, daringly leaning forward to mimic the Commander's pose.

"Because of the lack of evidence surrounding her death, and the lack of claims being able to present a body." He answers. He stands up straight and points to a smaller map of Skyrim set on a board in front of the map of Tamriel. "After the murder of her mother, the Snow Queen, it was said that she and her father fled the castle, only to be chased by the assassin. They were chased from to a ravine said to be not too far from the castle's property. It was documented they both jumped, and drowned in water."

"Do you not have any names apart from Erelia's, the names of her parents?" Nassari gently asks.

"I'm afraid not, Your Highness. The Nords destroyed most books and documentation after they went on their genocidal campaign."

"I see." Nassari asks.

"Now, we believe that _this_ story was told as a way for Erelia and her father to be able to hide before they were found again. Let me explain." Commander turns to the Skyrim map and point to Snow Veil Sanctum's location. "Using the location of the ravine where Erelia and her father had jumped, it happened to also be not too far from Snow Veil Sanctum."

"And what is Snow Veil Sanctum?"

"Ah, now this is where it gets interesting." The Commander smiles. Meanwhile Libby's heart is simply pounding against her ribs already from the Commander's lecture. "Snow Veil Sanctum is a burial mound where the Snow Elves would bury their honored dead. One of the last of what used to be hundreds across the empire."

"I always thought that was a Nord custom." Nassari says with disbelief.

Commander Johncar chuckles. "Another mislead when reading Nord texts. Many spectators believe that the Nords adopted the custom from the Snow Elves." Libby's chest tightens when Johncar's eyes flick to her. "Now, our sources have hypothesized that Erelia was actually the only one to jump into the ravine. We think she and her father were there to bury the Snow Queen. And then the assassin returned, killed Erelia's father, and she fled before jumping into the ravine."

"So she was the only one to jump?" Nassari asks.

"We believe so. Now, to answer your question, Miss Desidenius, our sources speculate that with her Snow Elven blood, she would've been able to survive in the cold temperatures for, a handful of hours before death, even with little clothing. And then someone might've picked her up and she went into hiding."

"Interesting." Nassari says in an exhale of admiration.

"These are some pretty bold statements." Libby interjects. "What physical evidence do you have on this?"

"It's not what I have, it's what the documents don't have." Commander Johncar says. "What the reports lack, are dates."

"Excuse me?" Nassari asks.

The two women watch as Commander Johncar goes over to the bookshelf and pulls out a royal chronicle – a recent one from eleven, twelve years ago. He opens to a tabbed page and sets it on front of Nassari, he points to a small paragraph. "The report here makes the claim, or the illusion, that the Snow Queen and her husband were killed together, in the same day by the same assassin. However, scholars calculated the distance from where the castle was, to the ravine, and it's at least an hour of a run. And with the assassin on horseback – as they found hoofprints by the castle – they would not have been able to outrun the horse for that long."

"Why not?"

"Because the Snow Queen's husband was mortal, an Imperial."

Nassari's eyes widen. "So they would have had to been closer."

"Exactly!" Commander Johncar exclaims, excitingly tapping his finger on the page of the chronicle.

"But wait, wouldn't other have recognized her if they found her?" Nassari reminds. "The Snow Elves were a wondrous race possessing great power and beauty."

"We can only assume she used her magic to alter her physicality. Something like a second skin, or defense mechanism. Like her instincts tapped into her magic and did something to protect herself."

Libby is staring at the book, her heart nearly exploding out of her chest. Something cold has spread through her veins. She didn't even notice Commander Johncar staring at her until he asks.

"You have been awfully quiet Miss Desidenius. Anything to add?"

It wasn't a challenge. It wasn't mocking her. It was genuine, maybe because she looks as pale as she feels, even with her mask hiding most of her features. Libby blinks and looks to Commander Johncar and Nassari. Nassari look more than a little concerned.

Libby raises her chin, clearing her throat. "And how did you find all of this out in the past four milleniuas?"

Commander Johncar sits down in the chair left of Nassari. "Because we have managed to find something that comes a hairs breath away from finding Erelia."

He looks to both Libby and Nassari.

"We have managed to contact a living Snow Elf. A knight-paladin."

Everything stops. Nassari immediately looks to Libby, who only keeps her widened eyes on Commander Arlamen.

"You . . . you what?" Libby breathes. "How? How is that possible?"

"He was discovered while some troops close to Solitude were investigating around. Unfortunately they perished at the hands of the Falmer, and apparently he had found their things and had written back to us."

Nassari breathlessly asks, "How did it find you if he is secluded, or in hiding?"

"We don't know. Snow Elf magic? Much of its properties vanished with the rest of the culture, so we have a broad range of assumptions and ideas."

"That's . . . that's unbelievable." Libby breathes, her eyebrows furrowing. "You're not deceiving him are you? You're not claiming to have his lost heir are you?"

"Of course not!" Commander Arlamen counters. "We would never! He's actually the one who gave us these lost statistics and dates and numbers. They've been more than a big help to us, and he wishes nothing more than for us to find his long lost queen."

"He is here, in Skyrim?" Nassari asks, the excitement in her voice as palpable as snow.

"Yes. Hiding. All the more reason we believe Erelia could be hiding around here. Somewhere."

"This is . . . more than what I could've hoped for." Nassari says, her hand setting to her chest as she inhales to calm her rapid heart. "This is all so exciting, but still so much is riding on her exposure. You can't possibly keep the Stormcloaks or Imperials distracted for much longer. They'll have to ask for proof sooner or later."

"Yes, we're all aware of that. Which is why our time grows short. And as much as it pains me to say this, if she doesn't show herself soon, I don't know what will happen." Commander Johncar sighs, running a hand through his dark hair. "However, in the meantime, we have been making plans to try and free the slaves of the prisons and mines here in Skyrim."

Nassari leans forward. "The mines?"

"Yes, there have been a multitude of prison riots ongoing here and there, caused by supporters of Erelia."

Libby's eyes widen and her heart nearly stops. Something frozen rushes through her veins.

"They need to stop." She says, nearly making it sound like a demand.

"Stop it? Why? When word gets around that supporters are even in the tiniest of places in Skyrim, Erelia's influence will –"

"They need to stop now!" Libby shouts, slamming her palms flat on the table. The room is silent. "They need to stop. If they don't, then there won't _be_ any more supporters of Erelia in the tiniest of places."

Libby leans closer to the commander, enough that he even leans back. She can feel the gold of her eyes brewing, like a flame of wildfire.

"Listen to me, the prisons and mines here are ruthless and hollow. No one can hear you scream, they all sound the same. No one is coming to rescue them if something happens. They are malnourished, overworked, whipped and worthless. They are ordinary people. They will not survive against their overseers." Her voice drops and seethes in a whisper. "There are _children_ in those purgatories. If an uprising occurs, who is going to stop Ulfric from sending out legions to take care of them? Certainly not you. Not when you're so unsure of yourself as it is. And who's to say he won't target the next mine, or the next prison to try and extinguish it? The man _slaughtered _six hundred Khajiit without blinking. Without a care."

Arlamen then hangs his head low. Libby watches his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. "Forgive me, Miss Desidenius. I have been so caught up in the tasks, so caught up in the excitement of more and more people supporting Erelia, that I have failed to see the risks it can bring, if not to my own soldiers, then to others. And I am well aware of your little, escape attempt six months into your sentence. You were a woman in Cidhna Mines. No one ever . . ."

Libby takes a deep breath. "They were afraid of me to begin with. And after the day I almost breached the surface, none of them dared to come close to me. Not since I killed the same overseers who raped and killed that Khajiit woman." A deep, unsettling coldness snakes to her heart. "They still died too quickly."

Just then, a bird call nearly perfect mimicry to that of a sparrow, sounds from above and the rebels suddenly get up and stretch, some of them shedding their weapons.

"Ah, midnight. Time flies by when going through information." He grunts as she stands, cracking out his back as he twists from side to side. "Well, I hope I haven't severely melted your brains tonight, ladies. I'm assuming you'll be staying the night."

"Yes." Nassari immediately answers. "If that is alright with you."

"You are under our surveillance and protection, Your Highness. The rebels would be honored for you to stay."

"Thank you. I appreciate it. And I promise I will put more effort on my part to try and give you any information that can help." Nassari promises.

Commander Arlamen nods. "Thank you; and I must say, your grasp of the common language is superb."

The princess smiles. "Thank Libitania; she taught me."

Libby looks to the commander. "I see. Well, I thank you, Libitania. Spared me the coin of hiring a translator." Libby gives a simple nod of her head, her mind too rattled to even form simple words. "So, will we ever get to see the face behind the legendary Libitania Desidenius?"

Libby inhales, lifting her shoulders. "If you prove to be as useful as you claim, I will show you my face."

"I look forward to it." he smiles. "Well, I'm sure I've overdone my thanks for tonight, so I will have Tithulu show you where you'll be sleeping the night. I only hope it'll meet your refined palate."

"I've slept in worse places." Libitania chimes without thinking.

No one says anything, but Nassari comes and holds her hand while a female Dunmer comes in, bow to the princess and escorts them to living quarters deeper inside the underground hideout. It is a small, rectangular room with two narrow beds, and chests at their ends. There is only a single weapon's rack and a bedside table made to share. Tithulu asks if the women need anything, both shaking their heads no.

Nassari sits quietly on the bed while Libitania inspects the room, checking for peepholes, signs of danger and double checking the locks. Given they are underground, she still inspects the cramped room until she is satisfied. When she is certain no one can see or hear them, she rips of her hood and cloak, unties her mask, and chucks them onto the bed. She sits down, bracing her head between her hands.

Libby doesn't move as she hears the skirts of Nassari's dress brush against the floor. She doesn't move when she feels the bed compress and groan with Nassari's weight. She doesn't move even when she feels Nassari's hand on her shoulder.

"What is bothering you, Solantir? Speak with me."

Cringing into herself, Libby can't explain even to herself, why tears start to breach past her tightly shut eyes and fall down her cheeks. She can only take in a shaky breath, and exhale it out. Patiently, Nassari scoots herself closer, wrapping her arms around Libby while she tries to calm herself enough to form a simple sentence. She feels Nassari rest her head on her shoulders.

"It's just, overwhelming." Libby finally mumbles, her eyes nearly red-rimmed.

"I know." Nassari coos.

"How can you be so calm about this?!" Libby asks, shaking herself free and rising from her seat. "After hearing all of that, how are you so calm? How do you still feel the want to help these people Nassari?"

"Because it is how I was raised." She answers, her face placid, hands folded in her lap. Libby plops back down on the opposite bed. "I was raised a princess, Solantir. And a princess knows: the needs of the people outweigh her own. Now I am just as cautious with this as you are, but sometimes you have to have a little faith."

Libitania scoffs.

"Listen to me," Nassari says as she takes Libby's hands. "You need to learn to have faith in people."

"We've been over this." Libby reminds. "I haven't very reliable people in the past. And t's going to take more than you and my Guild to prove me wrong." She suddenly gives a sharp laugh. "Have any of them ever even thought of the idea that Erelia doesn't _want_ to rule on the throne? That she might not want to rule over the people who killed her own kind? Or that she might not even be ready?"

"We all bear responsibilities, Libitania. All royals do. No decision comes without consequences." Nassari says, pausing while she blinks slowly, pushing the images of the Khajiit out of her mind. "But we can only do our best. We can only give it our all."

"And what if it's not enough."

"It is always never enough. But if you have the support of your people, it is always worth it."

Libby looks to Nassari and then gives a grin and a chuckles. "I bet Erelia wishes she had met you long ago. You're way better at this than her."

"As do I, but we are both still young."

"How can you be so okay with the weight of your crown? With that heaviness and burden of responsibilities?" Libby asks softly.

"Because they have to be earned. They aren't just made ready for you. They are made of discipline, determination, and a hard to find alloy called courage. Because anyone can wear a crown. Friend or foe, it can be found. Kings and fools may stand proud, but the weight will cause most to drown."

"If I wanted someone to answer me in riddles, I would've befriended a jester." Libby grumbles.

Nassari giggles as Libitania plops down back onto the same bed and falls back, her head hitting the pillow of pelts.

"In all honesty, it is how I was raised. I've told you this. I've always been prepared for it."

"Yes, but Erelia wasn't." Libby pauses. "What would you say to her?"

"Well," Nassari sighs. "I would tell her that she is always going to have decisions, always going to have responsibilities. But I always believed that being a good heir to your people, it is not about how polite you are or how you present yourself. I believe it is more about showing your integrity. Showing them how strong you can be. And Erelia is the strongest. She survived the hardship of when life tried to break her, and now she has the chance to come back and show others what it truly means to be a High Queen.

Integrity and strength. Courage and understanding. Erelia could conquer the world if she wanted you."

"Luckily she lacks motivation."

"Libby . . ."

"Sorry, sorry." Libby says with a wave of her hand. "Well, it's getting late. We should get some sleep."

"I suppose." Nassari sighs. "It was wise to pack along extra clothes."

"You're welcome." Libby smirks as she rests her hands behind her head.

"I knew what to pack. I knew we were going to be here for a couple of days."

"Oh yeah, that's why you brought that _one_ pair of extra slippers." Libby grins.

She only laughs when Nassari chucks a pillow into her face.


	40. Chapter 39

Day two of Libby and Nassari's visit to the rebel camp, and Diamond is struggling to keep calm as the time winds down for their adventure to Glenmoril Coven. She wasn't there to witness Libby's lie to Kodlak, or her truth – but either way she can't afford to say anything until she finds out the situation.

In her heart she knew Libby wouldn't lie to Kodlak, but at the same time, this isn't exactly information that can so easily be thrown around and spoken in public. But Kodlak is more than capable at keeping secrets; but would he keep the secret of Erelia? This does involve rebels, and the locations of their camps; but Kodlak isn't a person of politics and wouldn't ask something so specific, or would he?

Diamond shakes her head. This is doing nothing but scrambling her brain. So she simply takes a sip of her water from her goblet as the rest of the Companions come up from the living quarters for lunch. She had slept through much of the morning thanks to Aela canceling due to a hunt she just 'couldn't miss.' Not that Diamond minded, she felt, lighter, today. And after her conversation with Libby, she was more than a little emotionally exhausted.

With the rest of the Companions sitting down, making conversation like usual, she couldn't help but feel like something is missing. After her talk with Libby, though the air between them is still stiff, she has to admit things don't seem the same with Libby gone. She's grown so used to seeing Libby around the hall that when she doesn't show up for lunch, she almost wants go to Libby's mansion to see if she's home.

Then Farkas comes up the stairs and when their eyes meet she gives him a small smile, and he gives a raise of his eyebrows, a ghost of a smile in return. She has to admit, it is rather cute to see him missing Libby so much. Did she tell him the truth? Probably not; not when she told Diamond that Farkas doesn't even know she had the map.

She doesn't say anything as Farkas comes and sits next to her, filling his plate with food. Vilkas comes up after him, and Diamond immediately drops her gaze – though she catches Kodlak coming up behind him. She hasn't really spoken to Vilkas since he had comforted her after her burst of anger when Kodalk called her a child. She could still feel the warmth of his lips when they were pressed to her forehead; hear the softness in his voice as he held her close to his chest. There have been no words exchanged since, not because she chose not to, but everything was, conveniently timed. By the time Diamond came back to the hall, Vilkas was already gone to help Ria train in the plains outside of Whiterun. Once Diamond got inside the hall, she only bathed, changed into night clothes, and picked up a book she found in Farkas' room – she could only guess it was from Libby. Vilkas returned hours later, but by then Diamond was already asleep.

She's so lost in thought, she doesn't hear Farkas talking to her . . . that is until he bonks her on the head with his fork. "Ow!" she chirps, rubbing her head. "What?"

"Where are you?" Farkas asks, with a grin on his lips.

"I'm here, being stabbed with a fork!" Diamond remarks.

"Did you hear what I asked you?"

"I didn't even know you were asking me a question." She says as she grabs a pitcher to refill her goblet.

"Because you looked like you were a thousand leagues away."

"Sorry, sorry." Diamond says giving a wave of her hand. "So what did you ask?"

"How're things so far?"

"What do you mean?"

Farkas leans in closer, "I mean, how're things with Libby."

"Oh!" Diamond exclaims, as she sets down the pitcher. "Um, well, things went well to say the least. I mean we talked, and I'll admit, things are still awkward, but –"

"I don't mean that." Farkas interjects. "I meant, what about the rebel camps?"

Diamond nearly spews out her water, accepting Farkas hard pat on her back as she tries to regain her breath. She coughs and hears Farkas lean close to say, "Meet me outside."

With that he gets up and heads towards the back doors to the porch. Once Diamond regains her bearings and a jacket, she gets up and joins Farkas. When she steps through the doors, there is Farkas standing in the shadow of the watchtower looking over the plains of Skyrim. At this time of day, the sun is shining, no clouds, and some of the snow has melted, revealing puddles of cobblestone and grass. Diamond joins him, stuffing her hands in the warm pockets.

She approaches to find him with his arms folded, gazing out into the open world. He turns to her. "So, when did she tell you?" Diamond asks.

"When she returned from Dragonsreach." He answered. "I was against letting her go, but I knew stopping her would be inevitable. So have you heard anything from her?"

"Not since we talked yesterday evening."

Farkas nods his head, looking back out into the plains. A giant and his three mammoths are walking along the grass, creating giant gaping footprints in their wake. Farkas then turns his gaze downcast. "You think she's okay?"

Diamond chews on her words. "It's Libby. She'll be fine."

"Do you think this means she supports Erelia?"

"I don't know, Farkas. Libby isn't much of a political person to begin with." Diamond says with a nervous chuckle.

"You know they say with the word of Erelia growing stronger and stronger, the crime rate has decreased." Farkas says, never breaking his gaze from the plains. "Bandits are abandoning their lives of thievery for something of a good cause. And they say that there's even been talk in the mines and prisons too."

Diamond gulps, the chill finding its way down her spine. It would seem that it's the topic of everyone' discussion now. And with words spreading to even the furthest reaches of Skyrim, and crime rate decreasing, Erelia's rule has already shifted the ways of Skyrim, and she hasn't even made a move against the Imperials or Stormcloaks. But then again . . .

"Neither the Imperials, or the Stormcloaks are going to be happy about that." Diamond says.

"No. They're not. They say that both unions are sending out legions to try and extinguish the cause, however way they can." Farkas says, finally looking at Diamond, though when she se his eyes, she wishes he hadn't. He thought she was leagues away, the color of Farkas' eyes are so cold, so frozen that Diamond almost wants to take a step back. "It hasn't gotten to casualties, but I'm worried it'll get to that point."

"Since when did you become a person of politics?"

"Since Erelia became such a big deal. She's already done so much, and she hasn't even made an advancement on either army. What is she waiting for?"

Diamond shrugs. "I don't even think she's revealed herself, fully yet. She could be at anyone of these rebel camps. Hell, she could even be right here in Whiterun."

"I've heard rumors that travelers, refugees and small armed caravans are even traveling here to Skyrim to join the rebels, to support the cause, if not then they are organizing their own armies to be ready for her should she call upon their help." Farkas says. He blinks slowly, and turns away. He fidgets with his gauntlet.

"So, do you support her then?"

There's silence. Farkas is only staring ahead, but she sees a muscle feather in his jaw. "I used to say to let either side slaughter themselves. So long it didn't affect me, then I didn't care. But after seeing the change in people, after seeing what an impact Erelia can make, even without making an official first attack, she's already given much of Skyrim hope for a better future. How can anyone ignore that?"

Suddenly Diamond gets a sick feeling in her stomach. "Farkas, you're not, not . . ." she can't finish.

He shakes his head. "No. I might've made my decision, but I would never leave the Companions for a war. I'll help in other ways."

Diamond sighs in relief. Another moment of silence, and then Diamond asks, "Did you want to tell me something? I mean I get this is sensitive stuff, but it seems like you're hiding something."

"I'm not hiding anything, but do you want the truth?"

Diamond gulps, but even as her heart doubles in speed, she nods her head.

"I don't mean this the wrong way, but you don't deserve Libby."

Diamond blinks, then blinks again. Something cold runs through her veins. "Excuse me?"

"You don't deserve her." Farkas repeats, looking to her and taking a step forward. Diamond almost takes a step back, almost – if it weren't for her anger. "She's been through hell, much more so than you; and the way you treat her, is unfair. You have the right to be mad, but you can't pin the blame on her for everything that went wrong in your life. I'm sure you've already established this, and I'm proud and happy you at least talked to her, but you need to understand: she spent the last three years of her life in hell. She has been whipped daily, working long hours of the day while you sat back on your ass drinking way your problems, getting lost at the bottom of a bottle."

Diamond snarls. "How dare you, you son of a –!"

"And seeing you treat her like that, when you knew she regrets everything she did, and everything she _couldn't_ do to help you, it makes me want to just rip out your throat. Everything she did, she did to protect you because she loves you in ways that I _wish_ I could love me. But I never will, because she could never love someone as much as she does you."

Diamond's mouth is agape. Her anger tempering at his words. What started as a verbal attack has seeped into praise and possible jealousy?

"What is your point, Farkas? Because I see no reason to just stand here while you bombard me with verbal insults." She calmly growls.

Farkas' shoulder slouch and sighs. "I'm sorry. I'm just . . . worried."

"I told you she's going to be fine." Diamond snaps, her anger slowly subsiding into annoyance – which is good.

"It's not just about that." Farkas waves. "I'm sorry, I'm just, on edge."

"What do you mean?"

"We just had a long conversation that I can't get out of my head."

Diamond takes a step closer. Dangerous. Dangerous grounds. "What happened?"

Farkas looks over his shoulder to her and shakes his head. "Nothing. It's something she needs to tell you herself."

"You can't do that to me!" Diamond says, stomping her foot. "Now I'm curious. What was it?"

"Diamond." Farkas barks, the blonde immediately stepping down. He turns to her, his eyes looking softer at least. Like those words have been building up and he just needed release. Well, at least now she reason to not take it too personally.

She knew she could demand more answers – but there was just something so unsettling about the way he spoke to her. Something so urgent in his eyes, so nerve-wracked like he needed her to understand something that she couldn't see right in front to her.

"Let me know when she comes back." He says as he starts to walk past her back towards Jorrvaskr.

While she didn't mean to sound as cold as she did, Diamond manages to say, "You'll probably know before me."

Farkas doesn't stop, he only keeps walking. Needing the urge to move, Diamond takes steps forward into the tower Farkas previously occupied. She leans on her forearms, staring out ahead, into the snow peaked tips of the Throat of the World.

Just when she thought things were going okay, she's left with yet again another question about Libby that she want answered. Does she have the right to ask her upfront? They're still not, friends, but there's something old and familiar there, she just can't seem to grasp it.

Why can't thins ever be easy for her?

But in her chest, she could feel it. Something warm at the thought of Libby. After hearing Farkas speak of her, speak of her how Libby sees things. She still cares. She still loves, and Diamond can't help it.

She smiles, the warm in her heart spreading and extinguishing that icy anger.

* * *

Leaning against the tree, Libby stares up at the sky. It is twilight. The dawn of a new day. When she woke up this morning, she had to remind herself where she was, as she feared for a split second that she was back underground in Cidhna Mines. A horrible dream had accompanied her soon after she and the princess went to bed. It was a repetitive dream where her hands are bound, her back is a searing with blinding pain, and agony is numbing her bones as she is being carried like a dead dog into the many mass graves in Cidhna Mines. She awoke with a gasp and just had to get outside. When the cold hair hit her face, she greedily gulped it down and wiped the sweat from her forehead.

There are some stars still out as the rising sun pushes back the curtain of night. Though she can't see any constellations, she loves looking at the contrast the sky has this time of morning. Half of it still seeping with black and dark blues, while oranges and yellows and pinks come seeping in.

She probably shouldn't have left Nassari alone, but she couldn't stand being underground at the moment, especially from that dream. Even when she's paid off her debt to Skyrim and Markarth, she still fears of going back.

She didn't know what was going to happen today. No doubt that Commander Johncar will want to speak with Nassari about positions of the camps and things they can do to help the rebels, movements of both political parties and things that Libby could care less about. But she has to pay attention for Nassari's sake, and in case she has to 'intervene' again. This is still overwhelming, with so much activity going on all over Tamriel.

_We've managed to contact and actual living Snow Elf. A knight-paladin_.

Gods, she can't believe it. An actual Snow Elf hiding somewhere off the coast of Solitude. It's more than a bold move to have him reach out, to risk his location for the slim chance of drawing his lost queen out of hiding. And yet this . . . this is what keeps Libby's attention. To think she can see a Snow Elf alive, for real.

Libby shakes her head slowly. She can't afford to think like this. It is not her responsibility to care for the fate of others. In the past it has only led to disappointment and loss. It is not her responsibility. She can't do this. But she can't get it out of her mind.

Finally, without a care or explanation, Libby just slowly slides down the trunk of the tree, curls her knees into herself and begins to cry.

She's co conflicted inside her heart that the war in Skyrim would pale in comparison. She pounds her fist into the soft dirt, feeling its coldness cup her hand. What is she doing here? Why is she here? Why is she refusing to help?

She's here for Nassari. She's only here to protect her and be her security. Nassari can help this war. She can't. She and Commander Johncar and the knight-paladin Snow Elf can win this war. Yet to hear so many people talking about Erelia, to hear so much praise and love and support for her . . .

Libby wants to scream. Deep down, she knew what she had to do. She had everything laid out in front of her, yet she chooses to ignore it.

_What will make you say enough_? Nassari's words repeat.

Libby holds her head between her hands. Everything is there for her. Everything is coming down on her, pressuring her more and more. Urging her, practically yelling at her to make her move. Yet she simply stays to the side, acting as Nassari's bodyguard. Speaking up for the slaves and prisoners was a mere outburst. One she could not let slide by. Not when she knew the risks that come with Ulfric Stormcloak.

Her heart is beating fast, and her body is starting to sweat. Her nose is congested, her cheeks are raw, but her tears are flowing so strong. And she doesn't stop them.

It angers her more that her internal confliction can simply be solved by one simple choice, but she wants nothing to do with this. She can't have anything to do with this even if her help would be appreciated. To even her, she is being selfish, but she also has the right to be.

She has lost so much in her life. And now that she's finally gained back her freedom, she doesn't want to be involved in politics anymore.

Not anymore.

When she lifts her head, the sky becoming brighter as they draw back the curtain of night, she wipes her eyes and sniffs. She looks to the horizon, imagining what could've been if the Snow Elf Empire hadn't been exterminated. They say that the castle of the Glendeylin family was so big and so beautiful. Carved in the palest of marble, gleaming like water into the sunlight and could be seen from all eight corners of Tamriel. The city itself surrounding the castle was even bigger. It would've have overlapped with Solitude.

Sighing deeply, her breath puffing out in front of her, she turns her head to the side not knowing why. Her heart stops when she beholds what was left beside her. Small white flowers arranged in a lovely bouquet, though there are no footprints leading up to her or from away. And she would've known if someone was watching her, she would've heard them coming up to her.

With a tentative, shaking hand, Libby lifts up the flowers and brings them to her nose. They smell so fresh, and familiar . . . But even in this time when winter is slowly degrading, there still won't be flowers in bloom for _months_.

Huddling them into her lap, Libby knew she would have to smuggle theses inside and out of Nassari's view to keep her from asking questions, but for now, she'll keep them close to her heart, a reminder of a better time.

After all, this kind of bouquet signifies a new beginning. And if it's what she thinks it is, Libby is more than willing to embrace it. Bringing the flowers to her nose, Libby inhales deeply, and lets one final tear escape her eyes.


	41. Chapter 40

"I still can't believe she went to the camp. That's the last thing I had expected from her."

"Yes, and I say with a light heart that she is just as beautiful as you described. Perhaps even more so in person. She has proven herself to be as determined, as stubborn, and as silver-tongued as you remember." The Commander smiles.

In the shadows of the tomb, the knight-paladin laughs with a nod. "She has done well for herself."

"Though beautiful she may be, unfortunately, she is just as damaged as well. I can see the hollowness in her eyes, that storm that always seems to make her . . . hold back, to hesitate." The Commander sighs. "Whether that contributes her to compassion, I can't say, as it could also be an act of hindrance.

"It is up to her to decide." The knight-paladin barks.

"But a visit to the camp isn't enough; it's a step in the right direction, but still . . . She needs to be _involved_." The Commander says softly, leaning his hands on the stone table. "I can see it in her eyes, she wants to, but it's out of duty, not out of will. And a queen who won't cooperate, might as well be dead."

"I advise you refrain from using such words. She's come this far – she can make it."

"All I am saying is that we need her in this war _willingly_. If she's not willing to help even her own people –"

"She refuses to cooperate because she feels like she has unfinished business from the past." The Harbinger says, his silver eyed gleaming in the moonlight of the tomb. "But I still don't see what my little cub has to do with this."

"She is the hindrance that needs to be quenched." The knight-paladin says.

"If you dare touch her –!" A deep guttural growl vibrates his throat.

"Enough!" A voice ripples throughout the chamber. "We have to break them." the voice echoes in the chamber. "Only then can it begin."

All heads turn to the moonlight spilling into the tomb. Her body glows with an ethereal beauty, her long silver hair hallowing her head, her pointed ears pierced along their sides, her slim white dress rippling into oblivion, her circlet of silver and gems glinting.

"Forgive me my Queen, but my youngling is not ready." He kneels before the queen, trying not to get lost in her glowing feminine features, or those stunning, stunning eyes. "I cannot do this to her again. She is so young –"

"Harbinger," she says sternly, but her tone accompanied by compassion. "They were _all_ young. She needs her."

The knight-paladin steps into the light to approach the Harbinger. "She needs to come home."

The Harbinger shakes his head, his eyes gleaming with tears, "They won't understand. We are treading dangerous waters."

"I didn't give you premonitions to stop them. You will only be delaying the inevitable. I see all that has been and all that will be. There is no stopping him. You must accept your fate as it is to be, and embrace it. Only then can things begin changing, in and around Skyrim."

The Harbinger lowers his head. "I understand, Your Highness."

"Then do what needs to be done."

The Commander approaches the Harbinger as he rises up. He sets his hand on the man's shoulder. The knight-paladin joins them, his eyes gleaming like the rest of them. The Harbinger turns to the Queen. "For all our sakes, I hope you're right about this. I am giving up so much for you."

"Believe me Harbinger, your sacrifices will not be in vein. I shall grant you your wish for your contributions."

"If they go over the edge, there might not be anything to bring them back." He says.

"They will come back. They always do." The Queen says softly.

And he watches her eyes water.

"I beg to your Harbinger, to all of you. Please, please bring my daughter home."


	42. Chapter 41

Three days, twelve hours and thirty minutes later, Diamond hops over a mound of rocks, quickly following Libby towards the direction of Glemoril Coven. Libby checks behind her often to make sure Diamond is still following, and she is.

"How much further?" she asks as she trots to catch up with Libby who has the map.

"Not much. After we crest this hilltop we should find the path. But it'll be sketchy so be careful."

Libby had at least returned to Whiterun with Princess Nassari after their visit with the rebels. And Diamond had to admit, she looked to different. The expression on her face, the shade of her skin, the gleam in her eyes. She looked more haunted than normal, and of course spoke nothing about it. Diamond figured out that Libby's lie to Kodlak was that she was taking Nassari on a hunting trip, and if he saw how different she seemed to look, he didn't say anything.

Diamond was almost concerned for her, she's never seen Libby like this. And it only makes her want to ask what was discussed at the camps. What did they learn? Did they actually meet Erelia Glendeylin?

Libby didn't even sleep in Jorrvaskr that night. She stayed in Dragonsreach with Nassari. Even when she came this morning to fetch Diamond for their journey, she still seemed different. Only when she is distracted or concentrating does she appear normal. So Diamond let her lead the expedition just to make sure Libby is at least herself at some points.

When they left Whiterun, Kodlak gave them both reassuring advice and brushed kisses on their cheeks. "Strike down those vial demons as true warriors of the wild. And bring me their heads. The seat of their abilities. From there, we may begin to undo centuries of impurity."

With that, they left with the gates closing behind them as Kodlak waved. Though still, Diamond couldn't stop thinking about how, distant, Kodlak looked. Like something was bothering him, but he didn't have the time to tell. It doesn't help either that she had an odd feeling in her stomach since the sun rose up this morning.

She thought it had something to do with Libby, but when she arrived, things seemed normal, she even wanted to ask Libby if she had the same feeling, but decided against it. She just hopes everything is all right when they get back. Up ahead, Libby holds back a heavy branch for her as she makes her way across a small stream.

Since she can't wear her Nightingale uniform, Libby is now dressed in her armor that Farkas gave her, and Diamond has to admit, she looks rather regal and lethal. Her hair has grown more since they had left, and now Libby can put it in a ponytail, a short one, but still cute. On her back is an Ebony bow with matching arrows and her Nightingale sword at her side, which she smuggled out, and a couple of ebony daggers – their wicked looking blades glinting in the light.

They've been traveling for a handful of hours now, little to no obstacles apart from an encounter with a pack of wolves. Diamond never liked killing animals, and neither does Libby, but this time Libby happened to pack along some food, nothing too big, and it was decent enough to satisfy the wolves.

As Diamond comes up behind Libby, she dares herself to break the silence. "They say there have been some Forsworn attacks here in the area."

"You worried?" Libby asks, not even turning her head.

"It is wrong if I am?"

"Not really." Libby shrugs. "Have you ever encountered them before?"

They manage to find the main road once more and hop over the small rock walls and continue on. "Not that I remember; it was once when I was with Farkas, during my times of training. And it think it was enough for me."

Libby chuckles softly. "I can't really decide if they were the victims or the villains. I almost felt sorry for them. But then I encountered them in the mines and all my sympathy was out the hole."

Diamond forces herself to chuckle. Every time Libby talks about Cidhna Mines, it makes Diamond's heart heavy. Though it may seem like it's easier for her to speak about, Diamond knows it's not. Things like that; the things she endured, what she had seen . . . Which is why it's hard to laugh because of the cold nature of the jokes.

Soon the main road disappears into dirt, but there's a clear path that they can follow. Then as the trees close in around them, they have no choice but to go off road, Libby not even following the map now.

"You know where we're going?"

"Yep. I've been around here enough."

Diamond sighs. This is more than a little awkward, but what else can she say? Sure they cleared the air, at least to the most part, but there's still an underlying tension that they can't seem to quench. Then there's the fact that Libby is just so focused on getting to their destination, probably just to get the job done. Diamond could see her grumbling since she walked into Jorrvaskr this morning.

They reach and incline of a hill, Diamond whining aloud as they begin the trek. "Witches sure like their caves up high."

"A life of seclusion. Perhaps to keep others from hunting them down after they've pillaged a small village." Libby says.

"So, you said that the witches have this unfathomable beauty, and long iron nails and teeth."

"Yes . . ."

"What do we do to beat them? Do we have to avoid looking into their eyes or something or can we use magic against them?"

Libby chuckles. "Well, the easiest way to kill a witch is to cut off her head. And the only thing we have to worry about is those iron nails. They're used for close-combat. They only use their teeth if they can get close enough to you. So don't let that happen."

"I've been meaning to ask you –" Diamond says as she follows Libby up the hills, hopping over a rock ledge. "Do you think that Marionette was a Witch of Glenmoril?"

"I'd like to think so." Libby says as she waits for Diamond. When they meet up, they walk together and Libby continues. "I mean, she fit all of the qualities. The iron nails and teeth, and those aren't really easy to come by, even with magic. And then there was her moonlight hair and pale skin."

"But why would a witch become a Faceless?" Diamond asks.

Libby shrugs. "Well, the Glenmoril Witches are ruthless and merciless. So when they hear that they have the chance to maw and maim on a regular basis – that would be like drawing a fly to honey."

"I suppose."

Soon a dirt trail starts to form, and Libby slows their pace. She holds out her arm to stop Diamond as they approach a large tree trunk. Libby signals Diamond to hang back as she prowls close to the tree. On the other side of its trunk, Libby sighs when she sees it. A gibbet stocked with a body, or rather a skeleton with leftover skin and ragged clothes dangling from its bony limbs.

Libby inhales through her teeth as she observes the warning sign. "Jeez, what a way to go."

She hears Diamond give a small sound of disgust and horror. The blonde Companion comes up behind Libby, her lip curling in disgust. "That's, that's just gross."

"I assumed you've seen worse." Libby says.

"I don't know, just the thought of what those witches did to him . . . makes my gut twist."

The two stare at the gibbet, looking into the skeleton's hollow eyes, looking past the fake smile on his lips, mouth agape in what had to be a scream of horror. Libby shakes her head and stretches her shoulders. "Come on, we shouldn't stay here. We'll only regret it more when it comes to the witches."

"So what's the plan of attack?" Diamond asks as she followed Libby.

"Well, my suggestion is that we do this stealthily. It's our best chance than to just run in there with swords swinging."

"Well these witches borderline immortality, or they are immortal. So their skills must be, incredible."

Libby nods. "That's true, but they're still able to be killed. It'll be a fight to remember, that's for certain."

"So what happens if we get caught?" Diamond asks.

"We fight."

"Well that just instills me with confidence." Diamond says, stopping to cross her arms. Libby stops and looks to her, seeing the Companion looking unnerved.

Libby sighs, giving a gentle smile as she approaches the Companion. "Look Diamond, I now this is a little nerve-wracking, but we can do this. They can be killed, and Kodlak would never send us on a suicide trail. We can do this."

Diamond looks to Libby, and seeing a familiar . . . something in those stunning emerald eyes. Something that brings her back to their years when they were as close as friends could be. She blinks a couple of times and takes a deep breath. She looks to Libby and gives a ghost of a smile. "Okay."

Libby smiles back and motions them forward. The farther they go, the more dead things become. Trees without leaves, and their bark as grey as ash. The stones and dirt mold into one monotone, light plumes kicking up from their feet. The air becomes electrified and Diamond sticks close to Libby as a cave entrance comes into their view. Two oil fires are present at the front of the cave, and Libby only notices now how the sky gas grown dark. Bones of various animals litter the entrance of the cave, spriggan hearts dangling from trees, more effigies built of deer skulls line up like soldiers.

Diamond watches Libby take a deep breath as she stares into the blackness of the mouth of the cave. She looks to Diamond. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

Libby nods and the two walk in, weapons drawn.

Immediately they are swallows by darkness, the ceiling of the cave reaching higher than both girls thought. Crouched in the shadows, they prowl their way through the narrow entrance towards the open chamber ahead, being careful to steer clear of the light of the fires.

Diamond makes a sound of disgust. "This place reeks of fungus and unwashed bodies." she complains.

"Cleanliness isn't their first priority." Libby whispers.

Libby swiftly rolls towards another rock cover, Diamond following carefully. Libby motions her to halt. She leans in close. "There are some Frostbite Spiders ahead."

Diamond peers her head over and spots their eight-legged shadows staling around here and there, and with them, a humanoid shadow with following them. Diamond swallows.

"I'm going to take out the spiders, you can go for the witch." Libby says, ready to move and already drawing her bow.

"What?!" Diamond hisses. "Why don't we both take out the spiders? There's two; one for both of us."

"If we do that, the witch is going to notice something. One of us has to take out the spiders while the other takes out the witch."

Diamond quickly grabs her by the blackness of her cloak. "I'll take out the spiders." She states.

Libby looks to her with furrowed eyebrows, and then sighs. "Alright. Here." She hands Diamond her ebony bow, and a handful of arrows. When Diamond takes the bow, she has to admit, she can already feel more powerful with such a weapon in her hand. "I'm going to circle around the opposite direction. Shoot that spider up on the mezzanine, and while the witch is distracted, I'll take her out. Just make sure to aim for the other spider when I get her."

Diamond nods, carefully loading the arrow into the bow. Not even the witch will see these coming with how black they are. They're practically made from the shadows themselves. Libby moves from her spot, carefully prowling through the shadows like a Sabre cat targeting a deer.

Unfortunately, curiosity has Diamond as they come closer into the chamber with the first of the Glenmoril Witches. She ducks behind a cover of stones and peers over, listening to the footsteps of the witch and the spider.

Her breath is taken away as she beholds the first of the five witches.

Her beauty was beyond compare, and she walks with a swagger that only immortals could achieve. Her hair is gleaming like polished ivory, and her skin as white as alabaster. She wears leather armor, sultry and sexy as is exaggerates her perfect curves and toned muscles. Diamond has to take calming breathes as she beholds the witch's eyes – pure red as blood. Her pupils merely black dots in the sea of crimson. On her belt is a simple dagger, her only weapon, next to her iron nails and teeth, of which she can't see.

Diamond's eyes flicker to Libby, who is now in the perfect position to stage an attack. Diamond loads and arrow, holding it sideways and pulls back. The bow whines in her hands, and she narrows her eyes. Releasing the string, she exhales quietly as the arrow finds its home in the spider's head. The witch's head immediately jerks, her hair billowing around her gracefully like the skirts of a gown.

Diamond watches as Libby springs from her spot sprinting as if the denizens of hell were on her heels. She sees the glint of her Nightingale sword as she draws it, but Diamond's heart stops when she sees the witch spot Libby and gives a spine-shivering screech.

She watches the witch flick her wrist to reveal those deadly iron claws – five inches in length from the bed to the tip – and hears the ear grating sound of metal hitting metal. For a moment, she watches as Libby and the witch skillfully engage in close-combat battle.

Gods, the witch is so damn fast

Their weapons meet, ringing and clanging aloud. Libby tries to throw punches, but the witch smacks them away, swiping dangerously close with her nails. When she goes to swipe for Libby's eyes, Libby blocks it with her sword and manages to drive her fist into the witch's stomach. As she drops to her knees, Libby swings her leg and kicks the witch in the head. She goes rolling along the dirt.

As Libby approaches, the second Frostbite Spider gets ready to attack her, but as Libby turns her head, an arrow impales its eyes. Libby looks to the covers and nods to Diamond.

The witch hisses as she pushes herself to her hands and knees. She hisses as Libby approaches. "You harrowing _bitch_!"

Libby only laughs coldly. "Didn't think I was that good did you?"

Libby lifts her leg high and hurls it down. The witch rolls out of the way, large waves of dirt splashing upwards. The witch only hisses again as she stands.

"Breaking news, I'm even better." Slashing her sword, the witch blocks it but Libby draws her dagger and attempts to strike. The witch blocks it again and this time she swipes and her nails find their mark on Libby's upper arm. Libby grunts, taking stumbled steps back. The leather of her armor is torn, but the skin is still untouched.

The witch lunges, her clawed nails raining down, but Libby blocks them with her sword and elbows the witch in her face. As she stumbles back, Libby whirls with her dagger and swipes. The tips of her dagger cuts across the witches face. Blue blood leaks from the wound, quickly running down her neck.

Diamond carefully emerges from her spot, watching as the witch roars carefully circling with Libby, the assassin thief grinning with a wickedness that stiffens even the witch. How is it she seemed so scared to face these witches before, but now is fighting them head on like they are no more than bandits?

The witch lunges again, and this time her arms move faster than before, and Libby locks most of them, whirling out of the way, but still she receives two more cuts on her other arm and on her wrist, only one of them drawing blood. Nails and sword clang again, the witch coming in closer and closer to Libby.

Diamond almost intervenes, until she watches as Libby lets the witch come in close enough for her iron test to bite her throat, but then the tip of Libby's sword penetrates through the witch's sternum. Then as the witch grows stiff and grunts, nausea tickles Diamond's stomach as she hears the sickening slosh of the dagger slicing through the witch's neck. Her head falls with a vulgar thud into the dirt, blue blood pools underneath the body, the head of the witch forever cast in a scream of horror, or a howl of defiance. Her eyes slowly harden into the far-seeing gaze of the dead.

Carefully approaching the body, Diamond watches as Libby picks up the head by a handful of hair and drops it into a burlap sack. Then stringing it shut, she slings it across her back, over her sheath of arrows. "Well, one down, three more to go."

"That was . . . incredible." Diamond breathes with astonishment. "But, but how do you know there's more?"

"Well, these hallways have to go somewhere. Might as well check." Libby insists, already ascending the ramp leading up to the next room.

"Why would we need more than one head?"

Libby shrugs. "Better to be prepared. Why not wipe out these vial creatures rather than come back."

"Great." Diamond rolls her eyes.

"Don't worry, you'll get your chance soon. But we'll have to be more careful." She looks around at the entrances of the four tunnels. "So, we'll split up from here? Two and two?"

Diamond's chest hurts, and when she inhales, it's a little shaky. Looking at Libby and just watching her take down that witch. No, no, she can do this. Both Kodlak and Libby have faith in her, and for the first time in forever, having Libby's faith, it feels . . . good.

"You be careful." Libby says.

"You too." says Diamond, but then she sees Libby's arms. "Wait!" she calls and Libby turns to her with wide eyes. "Here, let me at least help you with your wounds." Diamond says, her hand starting to glow.

Libby quickly grabs it. "No, don't!" she hushes. "I'll be fine. I'd rather not draw them close to us. This cave seems pretty big, so I can only hope the others didn't hear us."

"But your armor –"

"I'll be fine." Libby grins.

Libby moves slowly, carefully maneuvering into the rocky hallway leading into a chamber deeper into the cave. Diamond reluctantly separates, drawing her warhammer after handing Libby back her bow, and takes the next one.

The tunnel Libby enters descends downwards, but still deeper inside the cave, and she can't help but feel like she's entering the belly of a monster. There's only a single lantern in the middle of the tunnel and then a very dimly lit torch before another chamber comes into view. There's slight movement of a shadow, but it disappears behind something, so she'll have to go in deeper.

She makes it past the threshold, and Libby an odd stalagmite obscuring her view. The witch is near an Arcane Enchanter, and there's no one else in the chamber. Libby could tell she is just as beautiful as the first witch, only difference being her eyes are a deep set of turquoise. She must be working on something because there's a bloodied goat karakas next to her, and Libby can hear the disgusting sound of nails digging around in the flesh.

Hiding behind the base of the stalagmite, Libby carefully peers around the corner. The witch is defiantly up to something, but she doesn't know what an animal karakas has to do with an enchanter.

She doesn't have the time to think about it as a spike of ice comes hurling at her. Libby ducks back behind the barrier of the stalagmite, quickly drawing her Nightingale sword. She leaps to the left in time as the barrier shatters into pebbles, still she is caught in the aftershock and is sent tumbling in the dirt.

Libby grunts, pushing to her hands and knees. She looks up, and swallows back her fear. There stands the witch, her hands glowing orange and blue. Dressed in well-crafted leather armor, a cloak of dep purple encircles her shoulders. She gives a grim smile, her iron teeth glinting in the light of her hands.

"Well, this is a pleasant surprise. And here I was about to go out in search of some entertainment. Yet here it comes to me. My lucky day." Her moonlight hair sways gracefully in the drafts of the cave.

Libby smiles. "Luck you are indeed; as I too, was looking for means of entertainment."

"And a coven of witches was your first choice?"

Libby shrugs and nonchalantly gestures with her sword, giving the witch a good look at the blade. "Guards are boring."

"Indeed." The witch purrs. She then sniffs the air. "I smell another presence here. A Companion? Quite the combination; and an unlikely one at that. You two come for some fun in guise of a death wish?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business. Surrender now and I'll make your death quick and painless." Libby says as she starts to walk towards the witch with her sword.

"What do you have against me? I have done nothing to you, _assassin_. I've been cooped up here in this cave while you enjoy the fun of slaughter each day."

"My days of bloodshed are behind me. But it doesn't hurt to eliminate some competition for the title of Skyrim's Assassin." Libby says. "Although I have to admit, it's a shame to have to kill such beauty."

"Perhaps I could make it worth your while to keep me alive." The witch purrs, her teeth retracting and giving a gently flip of her hair.

"I'm not into women. So you're out of luck." Libby says, aiming her sword at the witch's chest.

"Aww, come over here and we can hiss and make up."

She's the first to lunge forward, the iron nails of her right hand slashing for Libby's throat. Libby blocks it with her sword, but the witch continues to swipe. The iron nails clang against her Nightingale blade, Libby grinning as she watches its magical effects seep onto the witch. Slowly, she can feel her strength growing.

As the witch goes for another slash, Libby sidesteps and punches the witch back. Roaring viciously the witch swipes her iron nails left and right, Libby barely missing each one. Small light scrapes start to form on her armor, not too many cutting too deep. She tries not to think of what could've happened – or still could happen.

Libby ducks under the next swipe, but the witch whirls and Libby brings her arm up in time to block the claws aching to sear the skin of her neck. But what she didn't see was the witch reach low and grab her leg. She lifts Libby up and hauls her back. Libby tumbles, the grip of her Nightingale sword faltering, and the blade scatters across the dirt. Libby scrambles out of the way as the witch's ankle comes crashing down, aiming to shatter Libby's ribcage.

As she pushes to her feet, Libby can only arm herself with her metal ebony vambraces to block the witch as she continues to attempt to tear Libby's head from her body. The sound of the claws scraping against the metal makes Libby grit her teeth and her ears ring. The witch whirls another time, and Libby grabs her cloak and yanks.

The witch screams and her nails dig into the stone, sparks flying as Libby pulls her back. In a quick, smooth motion, the witch rolls and careens Libby over her, shoving harshly with her hands and feet.

Libby is on her feet before she even stops rolling, quickly grabbing her sword tucked away in between some dead bushes. She looks up in time to find the witch pounce on her, and quickly Libby grabs her by the waist and tosses her aside.

The witch lands on her feet, looks to Libby and suddenly runs deeper into the shadows of the chamber. Libby grunts, sheathing her sword at her side and hurrying after her.

The chamber is bigger than she observed, opening up to a small oasis and natural waterfall. The shadows here have increased, only two fire pits illuminating the massive space. Carefully, Libby walks around, searching every nook and cranny for signs of movement.

Something flickers out of the corner of her eye and Libby turns in time to meet the boots of the witch as she was crawling along the stone like a spider. Libby tumbles back into the rock wall, the witch screeching as she charges. Libby ducks against as her nails scape deeply into the stone. Quickly taking the rope she keeps tethered to her side, she throws it at the witch, lassoing her tightly.

Libby yanks her close, delivering a punch to the face and a kick in the side. She releases the witch and lets her crash into the rock wall. Rising to her feet, blue blood now leaking form her nose, the witch hisses, the blood mixing into her teeth.

She charges again and swipes, Libby ducking and throwing her own punch that misses as well. She leans her head to avoid the kicks of the witch's foot, but gasps when she feels the witch's knees wrap around her neck and she hoists herself over Libby's shoulders. Iron nails rake down her back, breaking past the armor.

Libby screams in agony as the witch pushes herself off, but Libby doesn't fall to the ground. She falls to one knee, ordering herself to stand. Biting back the pain and allowing a few tears to shed, she throws her lasso once more and traps it around the witch's ankles.

Yanking with all her angered strength, Libby whips the witch down onto a flat outcropping of rocks, the stone crackling beneath her. The witch gives a raspy gasp of breath, a cough, and then silence.

Releasing her lasso, Libby approaches the body. As she rewraps it with her elbow, she beholds the splatters of blue blood and gags at the odd angles the witch's legs and arms have become. Her head is still in good condition despite specks of blood.

For a moment, regret wriggles its way into her mind. Her shoulders slack, and she briefly begins to wonder why it is she is here. The witch wasn't wrong. Libby had nothing against her. Even if she was going to maul someone, it wasn't Libby's problem, it wasn't her place, or her business. Why is she here, risking her life for creatures she couldn't care less about?

_Because Kodlak deserves it_. She remembers. She's doing this for Kodlak. That justifies it, doesn't it?

Still, even when she cuts her head and puts it into the sack, Libby says a prayer to Hircine for the witch, hoping she will forever hunt for her master in Oblivion. "I'm sorry." she whispers.

* * *

Diamond carefully slips in and out of the shadows, navigating through the rocky hallway until she reaches the chamber. Her heart is pounding in her hear even as she observes the space. There's a natural waterfall flooding into through the top of the cave and pouring into a small pond.

Diamond can see shadows walking around, one belonging to the with – just as beautiful as the first witch, only difference is she wears a tavern dress with a low neckline revealing heavy cleavage. There's a slit in the skirt tracing up to her thigh, and simple boots. She carries a simple steel dagger, her long nails already out like cat claws. She can even see the witch's eyes being as pure purple as an amethyst stone. A Frostbite Spider follows her loyally keeping its fangs aimed high.

Carefully Diamond pulls out a dagger from her waist, securing the hit in her hand. She waits for the spider to wander away from the witch just far enough to – There!

With a snap of her wrist, the dagger flies end over end into the spider's skull. However, the sound of its sloshing maw attracts the witch and she turns to watch the spider topple down the ramp leading towards her alchemy table. Her lips pull back into a viscous snarl, and Diamond watches as her iron teeth snap into place. She looks around the room, her nose lifting to the air. Diamond holds her breath as her nostrils flare.

She ducks behind the rock cover, holding her second dagger close to her chest. But she was not prepared when she felt the boulder itself shift behind her and lift away from her. Diamond falls flat on her back, looking up to the Glenmoril Witch holding the massive boulder above her head like it's nothing more than a pebble.

The witch snarls, screeches loudly and hurls the rock down. Diamond rolls out of the way, blown back by the aftershock as the boulder slams into the ground; thick dirt clouds blur her vision and Diamond sheathes her dagger and brings out her warhammer.

The Glenmoril Witch hisses, and here Diamond can see her hair is shorter than the last one, about to her shoulders, but still as white as moonlight. She grins widely, her iron teeth gleaming and a deep savage hunger in those amethyst eyes.

"Your blood is mine, Companion!"

She charges for Diamond and goes to tackle her, but Diamond careens her over and sends her sliding across the dirt. She witch crashes into the wall of rock, and as Diamond comes charging, ready to swing her hammer, the witch swings her leg up. Diamond blocks the kick aimed for her side, and sends her own kick into the witch's side. She hisses and as Diamond goes to swing her hammer's head into the witch, she grabs Diamond's wrist end elbows her in the face.

Stumbling back, Diamond can't block the scratches that come across her chest, chipping her chitin armor. She keeps her warhammer up, she almost bashes herself in the face as the witch's iron nails collide with the hilt of her hammer. Using every bit of strength in her arms, Diamond presses herself against the wall and lifts her feet to shove the witch back.

As the witch tries to regain her footing, Diamond swings her warhammer low, swiping out her feet and hurls the head down to drive the witch into the ground. The witch rolls out of the way, and lunges. Diamond spins her warhammer fast, blocking each slash and swipe the witch tries to make. Hissing more, she swings low aiming for Diamond's thigh, but the Companion

She hears the crack of bone and hears the witch howl.

Quickly drawing her dagger, making to keep the head of her hammer in the witch's sternum, Diamond kneels down and plunges her dagger into the witch's chest. She watches the witch stiffen, gasp harshly before coughing up blood. Twisting the dagger as she pulls out, Diamond doesn't hesitate as she rains the dagger down into the witch's neck, severing the skin.

Blood splatters onto her face, onto her uniform. Closing her eyes, she moves the dagger left and right until she feels it break the skin. Then she grabs a fistful of the witch's hair and quickly backs up.

Heavily breathing, Diamond drops to her knees and heaves all over the ground. She coughs up whatever breakfast and lunch she had today, tossing the head away from her. She takes steady breathes, making herself crawl towards the oasis.

What is wrong with her? Why is it now that she's feeling sick? Why is she feeling like this is wrong? These witches cursed the Companions. They tricked the Harbinger of the past and now she's doing this for Kodlak. Still, it's the thought of having to come into their technical home and just killing them all . . . they're no better than bandits.

She reaches the oasis and dips her hands in to wash out her mouth and to wash off the blue blood form her face and her uniform. She swishes it around in her mouth and spits it into the dirt. Her warhammer is still at her side, her dagger left by the witch's corpse. She has one more to kill, one more and then she can return with Libby and let her carry the heads.

Her stomach feels uneasy of having to carry the witch's head until she meets up with Libby. Still, she needs to get this done, and then she can go home and take as many baths as she sees fit.

Pushing herself to her feet, Diamond walks back over the witch's corpse and takes her bloodied dagger. She gives herself the time to rinse them off in the oasis as well before sheathing them. Carefully, she walks her way back out of the tunnel and into the main chamber.

She doesn't see any signs of Libby, but can only assume she's already taking out the next witch as she thinks. There's another small narrow way to her left, so taking a deep breath, Diamond walks into the next hallway. She makes sure to keep extra cautious, no doubt now she smells of witch blood, mixing with her beastblood she's bound to be a target now.

Another simple lantern to light the hallway, and Diamond keeps close to the wall like a snake, crouching low as she enters the chamber. This one has a couple more fire lanterns, all dirt with stalactites in the ceiling.

Her foot had just passed the threshold when she hears hissing that sends shivers down her spine. Diamond leaps out of the way in time as a ball of fire whizzes past her head and crashes into the side of the entryway. She rolls with her momentum and draws her warhammer, spinning it to deflect the second ball of fire that comes hurdling towards her. Some of its flames lick her arms and Diamond grunts, patting them down quickly.

Footsteps are approaching, and Diamond looks up to see the Glenmoril Witch, with eyes of sunshine gold. Her hands glow a warm orange, flames spewing and pitting between her fingers. Her long white hair is braided down her back, and the hilt of a sword peaks over her right shoulder. She grins widely, revealing those iron teeth eerily glowing in the light of her flames.

"You Companions are quite noisy." She purrs, her voice so cool and cultured. "We haven't had the pleasure of your company for quite some time. Your life must not be very important to you, coming here this way."

"Don't overestimate your abilities." Diamond boldly states. "You may be immortal, but my people are warriors. No less than yours."

"No matter, you will have an eternity to mourn your mistake."

She charges and Diamond actually sheathes her warhammer as the witch comes close. When she goes to slice with her iron claws, Diamond grabs her arm, twisting until she hears a pop and careens her over so the witch lands on her back. The witch snarls, and propels her feet up, nailing Diamond in the jaw and a swift kick to the side. Rolling with her momentum, Diamond comes up on her hands and knees, but trembles as she beholds the witch lift up a giant stalagmite.

Growling heavily, she turns and pushes it towards Diamond. The Companion leaps out of the way, tumbling as she feels the rock crash and break against the ground. The entire foundation of the cave vibrates and Diamond draws her warhammer. As the dust clears, she charges the witch with her hammer high. The witch hisses and holds her iron nails together. When they clang together, Diamond has to hold her arms steady from vibration, and grit her teeth to keep from covering her ears.

She shoves the witch off and she only grins. "Let's see how you witches fight."

Charging together, the two compete on close-combat, the sound of metal hitting metal ringing in her ears. Diamond manages to hit the witch in her shoulder with the head of her hammer and punches her straight in her jaw. As the witch slides back, Diamond lifts her hammer high to bring down the deathblow, but the witch retaliates and Diamond has to switch her angle to block the clawed hand aimed for her face.

Sparks fly off the blade, and Diamond spins so the hilt blocks another powerful slash. She can feel her arms growing fatigue, this kind of strength is unmatched. But she's holding her end up well, and only hopes that Libby is doing the same. Another impactful blow though sends Diamond tumbling over her feet. When she tries to catch herself, the witch is already close and knocks Diamond's hammer out of her hand. There's a sharp punch to her jaw and pain crackles along her skull. There's a second punch and Diamond it sent flying back into the rock wall, and then something cold and sharp is gripped around her neck.

Opening her eyes, feeling blood dribbling from her nose, Diamond looks into the golden eyes of the witch, her body freezing. The wickedness of her smile makes Diamond want to retreat. Inside that wickedness is a hunger like she's never seen. This could be a slow death.

The witch grins and in a last attempt to fight, Diamond tries to shift into her beast form, but the witch elbows her in the throat and then there's another blow to her sternum. Diamond grunts loudly as she feels the air escape her lungs. Then there's fierce punches left and right as she drops to her knees. Then she screams as she feels the witch's nail puncture her armor and dig into her shoulder, raking down her arm. Then it's a kick to her side and Diamond rolls along the dirt, the blood of her arm smearing in her wake.

She can feel the warmth of her blood streaming down her chin and her neck. Diamond tries to push herself to her hands, but a clawed hand grabs her throat and she has to hold her breath as she feels herself pinned to the ground.

Blinking her eyes open, she beholds the witch towering over her. She lifts her other hand and grins once more. "I'll enjoy drinking the marrow from your bones!"

She lifts her arm up high and Diamond swallows down a mouthful of blood and saliva.

This is it.

This is how she dies. Dying at the hands of witch, failing her Harbinger and her friend oblivious until it will be too late.

As Diamond embraces her death, as she hears the witch howl, she was not prepared to see the witch suddenly tackled form the side. Her nails cut into the skin of Diamond's neck in the process, but it's nothing too deep.

Diamond pushes herself up and finds Libby and the witch rolling in the dirt.

Teeth and nails out, they flip and shred and bite. Diamond's blood freezes when she hears Libby roaring, roaring so loud the cave shakes. She watches feet slam into Libby's stomach, and the air shooting out of her as the witch kicks her off.

Libby hits the earth, spits out a mouthful of blood, and is up in a heartbeat. The witch slashes with an iron-tipped hand, a blow that could have severed through bone and flesh. Libby ducks past the witch's guard and throws her onto the unforgiving stone.

Quaking like a leaf, Diamond watches as Libby brings her fist down onto the witch's face. But it's not the viciousness of the attack that scares her . . . No, it's the look of cold, dead cruelty she sees in Libby's eyes. The ring of gold around her eyes is like a living flame; and the green of her eyes is the concentrated shade of pale jade.

Cold, ruthless, and merciless. This is Libby. This is Skyrim's Assassin. This is her friend.

Libby's knuckles howl in pain, but all she can see are those nails, the pain in Diamond's eyes, the fear. Struggling against her weight, the witch swipes at her face. Libby reels back, the blow cutting down her neck. She doesn't quite feel the stinging, or the warm trickle of blood. She just draws back her fist, knee digging harder into the witch's chest, and strikes. Again. And again.

She lifts her aching fist once more, but there are hands at her wrist, under her arms, hauling her off. Libby thrashes against the, still screaming, the wound wordless and endless. There's a punch to her jaw and another in her stomach. Wheezing the air out, she is picked up and tossed heavily to the ground, flipping and skipping and sliding to a stop a couple inches ahead of Diamond.

"Libby!" Diamond cries, rushing to her side. And there are gentle hands on her back and shoulder.

Breathing through her mouth thanks to her blood-clogged nose, Libby props herself up onto her elbows and looks into the cerulean eyes of friend. She doesn't look too bad, her eyes are wide an on her . . . and full of fear.

She has a couple of cuts on her neck, her wounds already clotting. Libby wipes her bloody nose and mouth with the back of her wrist, and spits a mouthful onto the ground.

"Thanks Libby, I . . . I don't know what to say."

"I wouldn't thank me just yet." Libby growls, her voice deep and like gravel. The voice of a demon, not a young woman.

Diamond is still shaking as she watches Libby push to her feet. Gods, the back of her armor has been torn, and her back is a little bit bloody – looking even more vulgar as Diamond can see the multitude of scars of her back peeking through the rips. The scars of Cidhna Mines.

Libby still has that predatory look in her eyes as she stares ahead. Diamond follows her gaze and finds another witch next to her own, helping her up off the ground. Diamond's is the one with the golden eyes and braid, and this one must be Libby's.

Her witch has one half of her head shaved, and the rest of her hair falling over her shoulder, she has a steel dagger in her hand and is dressed in leather armor. Her eyes glow a fierce cobalt, hissing as her sister rises from the ground.

Gods, Libby _mauled_ her.

Her witch has bruises and cuts and slashes all over her body, her armor nearly falling apart at the seams. Her nose is bent at an odd angle – probably broken – and a hideous black eye. Bits of her pale skin poke through the holes of her armor, revealing more black and blue and Diamond could swear she sees some of her iron teeth knocked out.

There's a deep cut along her neck, possibly the result of Libby trying to cut off her head. Until . . .

Until she came looking for Diamond. She must've heard Diamond scream. Over in the corner, Diamond can still see the head of the witch she killed, remarkably still intact despite the battle.

Diamond looks to Libby, but the assassin refuses to take her eyes off of the witches. Her Nightingale sword is sheathed at her side, but Diamond can see some of her daggers are missing.

"This is quite the visitation." The golden-eyed witch growls. "Here we're having a simple day in the coven, and you two come and intrude."

Neither of the girls say anything; Diamond carefully stepping closer to Libby. In a smooth flick of the wrist, Libby has another sword drawn and hands it to Diamond. She takes it without question.

"I have to admit, I could've expected a Companion to come," the beaten witch adds. "but I never thought we've be given the grace of Skyrim's Assassin."

"Guess it's your lucky day." Libby replies coldly.

"Did the Harbinger hired you to watch his little child?"

"Watch your mouth you arrogant ass!" Diamond shouts, her anger giving strength anew.

"At least with your friend here, you have so much more of a chance." the golden-eyed witch continually taunts. "At least she has experience. And she'll walk away with some gold."

"I no longer kill under orders. Those days are behind me." Libby growls.

"Oh no assassin, you are very much wrong." The golden-eyed witch says. "For I have seen all that has been, and all that will be. Your bloodshed has just begun."

Catching her off guard, Diamond turns her head to Libby, seeing a muscle feather in her jaw.

"What do you know about my future?" Libby daringly asks.

"I have the sights of the oracle. I am bound to the Daedric Lord of the Hunt, and he has given me foresight of your future. Coated in blood, raked with loss and fights. Axes flash, broadswords swing. I can hear the piercing ring of shining armor."

"Libby . . .?" Diamond carefully asks.

Nothing.

The golden-eyed witch grins. "Carnage will trail in your wake."

Libby growls. "Then I'll start with you. So be it!"

"Libby!" Diamond shouts, but it's too late.

Libby and the golden-eyed witch are charging for each other, Libby not seemingly drawing a weapon. Diamond follows after, but is kicked in the side and sent tumbling back into the dirt. The witch with the cobalt eyes is hissing at her, drawing a sword from her back. After a heartbeat of a glaring contest, the witch charges.

The golden-eyed witch draws a dagger and immediately goes to stab Libby. Libby grabs her wrist and goes to punch her, but the witch smacks her hand away and goes for another slash. Libby sidesteps and whirls out of the way and when she delivers a punch, it hits it mark in the witch's jaw. Her knuckles still ache, but she welcomes the pain as it shoots up her arm.

Quicker than she can block, the witch spins and kicks her in the side of the head and as Libby regains herself, she barely misses another stab meant for her shoulder. The witch flips the blade in her hand, to a position that she can easily gut Libby from navel to nose. And when the witch goes to impale the dagger into the side of Libby's neck, Libby blocks it with her forearm and grabs the witch's wrist. She uses her other arm to get her in a headlock.

Strength against strength, Libby is carefully maneuvering her hand to snap the witch's neck, but then she watches the witch's thumb twitches and suddenly the hilt of her dagger extends, striking Libby straight in her dome.

The unpredicted strike makes Libby lose her grip and her defense. She can't stop the witch as she whacks Libby in the back of the head with the extended hilt. Black dots are swarming into her vision and the back of her head is throbbing heavily.

It only gets worse when the witch grabs Libby by the hair, lifts _up _off the ground and then hauls her back down with such force that Libby's heavy impact sends her sliding along the ground until she slams into the rock wall so hard the chamber shakes.

Her head is throbbing, each pulse sending the blackness of her vision churning. She dares to open them and when she sees the world rippling, her stomach rocks. She takes careful breaths to calm herself, keeping still to let the witch think she's knocked out. But she can't stay like this for long, she doesn't want the two of them to target Diamond, who she can hear is having a heavy clashing with the other witch, her old opponent.

Diamond shoves her witch off and swipes at her side with the tip of the sword. As she falls into the dirt, she turns and finds Libby against the rock wall. "Libby!" she calls.

She is immediately at Libby's side and watches as Libby blinks her eyes open. She can tell Libby is a little bit out of is. She must've hit her head hard.

"Here, let me help –"

Diamond squeaks when she feels Libby harshly grab her wrist. "_No_." Libby snarls. "She's _mine_."

Diamond watches as Libby rises up, still not drawing a weapon. She walks towards the golden-eyed witch, who is spinning the elongated dagger between her fingers. Despite the bleeding scratches and the bruises covering her body – making her look like a near walking corpse – Libby still walks with a swagger she's mastered over her years.

Diamond only has time to watch Libby pounce towards the golden-eyed witch as her own opponent with the cobalt eyes comes hurdling down from above. Diamond backflips out of the way and their dance of claws and blades continues.

Libby rushes towards her witch and this time she sidesteps out of the way of her. When she goes to swing it back at her head, Libby blocks it with her forearm, the dagger clanging against her ebony vambrace.

She slides her arm along the extended hilt of the dagger, sparks flying, and grabs it, yanking it out of the witch's hand and delivering a punch that sends her skipping back like a stone on water.

When she comes to a stop, Libby hurdles the dagger at her like a spear. The weapon finds it mark piercing through her throat and impaling her to the wall. Libby walks up nonchalantly, her sword whining as she draws it from its sheath. The witch has blood drooling out of the corner of her mouth and from the puncture wound in the middle of her neck.

She hisses, but ends up coughing up blood and making herself gag. Libby simply looks to her, nothing but cold dead eyes.

With one swoop of her sword she has the head of the witch cut off. It falls to her feet with a vulgar thud. Sheathing her sword, Libby picks up the head and stuffs it into the burlap sack and slings it onto her back. She even manages to walk over and fetch the other head of Diamond's previous opponent.

She hears the collision of metal and looks to find Diamond winning the battle with the last witch. The witch is constantly slashing at Diamond, not even giving her a chance to go offensive. And her arms are beginning to quake, she's not going to last much longer.

With a running start, Libby leaps and lands on a rock for height and leaps against and hurls her leg down, nailing the witch in the back of the head. As she rolls to the ground, she swings her leg up and nails the witch in the chest. Following without question, Diamond goes and swings her sword, whacking the witch towards the ground.

Whipping out her rope, Libby pounces and lassos the witch around the neck like a noose. She continues to circle the witch so that she is entangled in the rope, her arms pinned to her side. Libby digs her feet into the ground, giving her tread and yanks. The witch with her immortal strength resists, but Libby doesn't give up so easily. She pulls taught and the two engage in a tug of war, the witch screeching as she falls to her knees.

"Now Diamond! Cut off her head!"

Diamond spins her sword between her hands in dizzying circles and hurries towards the two. The witch lifts her head, but she only looks as far as Diamond's waist.

Diamond brings the sword down, throwing every bit of strength into her arms. Blue blood sprays everywhere.

There is a howl of hatred on the witch's decapitated head as it thuds to a stop.

Quiet falls. Diamond watches Libby relax, unwinding her rope from the corpse. Diamond swallows. Once. Twice. She takes a step back from the body, only able to watch Libby wind up her rope.

Libby catches her staring and says between breaths. "Nice work."

"Sure." Diamond says dryly.

She watches as Libby ties the rope off to her belt and the two stand there in silence. Diamond doesn't say anything as she watches Libby pick up the head of the last witch and stuff it into the bag. She tries not to listen to the sound of flesh hitting flesh. Libby ties the sack up and slings it onto her back.

She looks to Diamond, looking past the blood and bruises or even the words that the witch had spoken to her, and sighs. Finally, Diamond can see the wildness in Libby's eyes finally starting to ebb.

"I, um . . . I think we should go." Libby says, her voice still like gravel, but now the tone is softer, shyer.

Diamond nods, not wanting to say anything; because she doesn't know what to say at all. Regret starts to cloud her eyes, extinguishing the anger. Diamond knew Libby didn't want her to ever see that side of her.

That . . . that is the closest she has come to seeing the girl – no, the _monster_ that had rampaged through Cidhna Mines. The monster that had slaughtered slave and guard alike in an escape for her freedom. The monster that was willing to hurt anyone that dared come in her way to her freedom; her freedom being death.

Just the anger . . . that anger in Libby's eyes when the witch was so close to maiming Diamond. And to think it was all because Diamond was in danger.

_Everything she did, she did because she loves you_. Kodlak had said.

Libby starts to make her way towards the entrance and Diamond follows. But before they leave the cave, Diamond calls out. "By the way, Libby . . ."

Libby stops and turns towards her, her eyebrows raised. "Thank you . . . for saving my life."

Libby's eyes delicately glow, and softly replies, "You're welcome."


	43. Chapter 42

"That was, pretty intense; and I mean that in the best way possible." Diamond says. "I mean we just _whoosh_! And then, and then you came in with the rope and you tangled her –"

She had started rambling as the girls left the cave, and are now on their way back to Whiterun with the heads of the Glenmoril Coven. It didn't hit Diamond until they actually left the cave and stepped out into the fresh air.

They actually slayed an entire coven of witches. Glenmoril Witches.

They'll be known throughout Skyrim! And since people still think that Libby follows the title of Lilian Camobrook of the Companions, she'll get a little piece of glory. Diamond almost forgot Libby's alias name since everyone close to them knew of her true name. Even the princess. And while the rest of Skyrim knows of Libitania Desidenius and knew that she has paid off her debt to Skyrim for her crimes, they still don't know that she is right here bunking with the country's most honorable warriors.

Libby is carrying the sack of the witches' heads, leading the way down the path. Her back still stings from the scratches and bruises left behind from her battles with the witches, and she'll have to talk to Tonilia . . . again. But she divided up her stash of healing positions and shared with Diamond. So now their injuries will suffice until they reach the hold and find a proper healer. Hopefully Danica is in at the Temple of Kynareth.

Diamond asked her if she had her magical map to fast-travel them to Whiterun, but Libby said that they had burned it when she got to Cidhna Mines, and she hasn't really gone back for another. By now they're close to the Hold anyway. Their walk took them at least an hour, and now they're nearing the gates of Whiterun.

"And then, man with those nails and such! It was so exhilarating to fight them!" Diamond continues.

"I knew you had it in you." Libby grins. "I haven't been in a heated battle like that since, well, I guess Mercer."

Diamond stiffens, and clears her throat. There's silence for a couple of minutes, and just as Diamond is about to say something, Libby turns to her at the same time and is about to speak as well. The two let out one chirp of their sentences before giggling together.

"Sorry. You first." Libby smiles.

"I was just going to ask how the others are." Diamond says, casting her gaze to the ground, and timidly kicking up dirt.

Libby giggles some more. "They're fine. Rolling in coin. And they couldn't be happier. Karliah has made her home in Nightingale Hall, and she comes and visits very often." She looks to Diamond and grins. "And Cindric is still single."

"Oh my gods!" Diamond exclaims and she quickly covers her face, her cheeks turning immediately red.

Libby cackles, tilting her head to the sky. "I didn't think you still liked him."

"No, I – I don't! But still, even you have to admit that he's pretty good looking."

Libby gives a shrug of her shoulders. She lowers her gaze to the ground. "You know they ask about you, sometimes."

Diamond looks to her, her face softening into something . . . beautiful. Nothing childish, but something older, like . . . like something. But it is there.

"Really?"

"Yeah, well in a sense. After, what had transpired, they sometimes asked if I had ever reached out to you. I always said no. And then after I got out, and I finally went to visit them, or perhaps when I had dinner with Brynjolf, they asked what had happened to you. And I told them that you moved on." Libby voice softens and drops lower. "Then I got captured, and the rest is history."

"How did you get captured? And why? I thought you were Zusa's right-hand, Faceless." Diamond asks, her gut clenching at the question, and at the fact.

Libby stiffens and takes a shaky inhale of breath. "It was around the time the Guild was prosperous again, and I had managed to scrape together enough money to pay Zusa back for, practically raising me after the death of my parents." Looking down at their feet, she sees them walking in unison. "And then even after I (professionally) told her I was done, even after I handed her the money, all she said was: "You'll regret breaking a deal with me. I don't like to share my belongings."

Diamond's spine shivers as she remembers similar words Zusa had spoken to her when she was held captive in the Faceless headquarters. Then the pain of her smashing Diamond's head into her mirror, and stepping on her hand with the heel of her shoe. Followed by a disgusting kiss on her lips.

"And then she had her guards attacked me, and I just . . . snapped."

_Snapped_. The same term she used when she slashed her way through Cidhna Mines after waking from the dream of losing her father. Not even Libby knew she could snap that quickly. Diamond didn't know either, but when her anger becomes so strong, so absolute that she can feel it overflowing in her, there is no one, nothing in the world that could stop her.

"And then, after I cut down a forth of her men, I charged for her."

Diamond's heart leaps in her throat. She charged, for _Zusa_? Another chill. It – it had to be another one of her death wishes.

She had to have known she was going to die –

"And just like I did in Cidhna Mines, exactly like I did in Cidhna Mines, I was so close, until one of her members knocked be out, and I fell with my hand barely an inch from that bitch's toe."

Diamond nearly stops, resulting in her tripping over her own feet. Libby came close to actually hitting Zusa, to actually laying a finger on her. Even when she got knocked out, to come that close. Looks like she was too good of a teacher.

"I almost want to lose some of the skills she showed me. It's the only remnant I have of her." Libby continues. Diamond looks to her, her eyes getting a little shine. "It's the only thing I have left of her, but I don't want _anything_ to remind be of that _bitch_."

"I'm surprised she hasn't reached out to you. She has to know you're out." Diamond risks.

"She probably does. But maybe she wizened up and now knows to stay the hell away from her, if she wants to keep her face looking pretty."

Diamond smiles. She knows that feeling. Diamond can't even believe how badly she wanted to rake her nails down Zusa's face, or stab her in the neck with the broken shards of the mirror.

"Well, she lost us both." Diamond says, patting Libby's shoulder. "She'll probably never let herself live it down."

"Yeah." Libby chuckles. "I'm sorry if you don't like to talk about it, but, you ever wonder what could've happened if we both stayed?"

Diamond looks to Libby, and while there's an innocent curiosity, the seriousness still has Diamond frazzled. "I mean, no not really. I don't want to."

"But could you now?"

"I mean, I guess. I guess we would've been two of her best." Diamond manages to chuckle.

Libby does too. "Her _absolute_ best."

"She probably would've taken over Skyrim with us."

"Yeah. And maybe she knew that. Maybe that's why she wanted us so badly."

What could've happened, if she stayed? Diamond looks up at the sky, at the passing clouds, towards the familiar foothills of Whiterun Hold. As much as she doesn't want to open that door again and fill it with possibilities that'll only make her gut wrench with guilt, she dares to open the door ajar.

If she stayed . . . Malick would still be alive. She probably would've hated him much, much more before – before she . . . Libby and her would've been the best assassins Zusa ever had. Their skills unmatched, their names whispered in fear. Veera would've _loved_ Libby. The two of them laughing and talking about so many things, Libby possibly wanting to color her hair like Veera's.

Diamond could've spent more time with Malick, and maybe they would've had something stronger. Something more, realistic. They would have each other's backs, Libby constantly teasing Diamond when they'd be in the same room. Diamond would pull him aside around and abandoned corner and place her lips in his –

He violently shakes her head.

"You alright?" Libby asks.

"Yeah, yeah." Diamond gives with a wave of her hand. "It's just, the more I do think about it, the more I don't think I like it."

Libby's shoulder slouch and she folds in her lips. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine." Diamond waves off.

Without their attention on the road, they reached the main road leading to the Hold. Right now they're outside the farms, but even then, both the girls feel like something is off. Things are oddly quiet, apart from the animals scrounging around. Libby and Diamond keep walking up the steps, looking all around. Libby's heart sinks when she sees the guards not at their regular towers.

She only feels worse when Diamond asks her, "Does something feel, off to you?"

"Unfortunately yes."

The girls speed up their steps as they near the front gate, Libby allowing herself a little nostalgia as she remembers how she and Diamond were walking just like this when they had escaped from Helgen after that dragon attack, an incident that still leaves her thrashing at night with terrors of her mind.

They push through the gates and immediately the whispers reach their ears. Several guards rush from their barracks and towards the Cloud District. Libby and Diamond look to one another, their steps nearing running now. There's no one at the Warmaiden's, Adrianne isn't at her forge. They make it to the market and their hearts sink when no one is at their stands, and the doors to the Bannered Mare have been propped open.

"What's happening?" Diamond asks, her voice already hinted with panic. Libby only shakes her head.

They are sprinting now, their weapons slapping against their hips. Libby adjusts the burlap sack hitting her back, the sound of sloshing flesh making her ill. They reach the Cloud District, and it's clear something happened, but the crowd's too thick to see. People see Diamond's face, recognize her, and look panicked. She only knows whatever waits for her inside is meant for her.

"I can't believe it."

"They must be out of their minds."

"This isn't good."

Whatever it is it's terrible. Diamond is now shoving her way through the crowd, regardless of who her hands touch. Libby calls her name behind her but she sounds leagues away.

Breaking through the crowd, Diamond nearly falls to her knees when she beholds Jorrvaskr. Libby's soft steps come up behind her, and Diamond hears her swear.

Blood is everywhere. It drips down the steps of the hall and puddles at the landing. The crowd is gathered, whispering things back and forth, and upfront, Torvar and Aela have bloodied weapons and are standing over the dead bodies of the Silver Hand.

Torvar's eyes find hers and he stands up straight and sheathes his sword. Diamond nearly convulses at the seriousness in his eyes. He approaches her, his gate a little exhausted.

"Torvar . . ." Diamond whimpers.

"The Silver Hand." He sighs. "They finally had the nerves to attack Jorrvaskr. We got most of them, but I think a few stragglers made it out."

"Where is Kodlak?" Diamond asks, her voice barely audible.

Torvar looks to her, his mouth opening, but then closing.

_No_.

"Diamond, listen to me." Torvar beings, his hands holding Diamond's arms. She yanks away from Torvar's grip and begins to hurry up the steps.

"Diamond!" he calls. At this point her heart is beating so fast and fierce that she hardly sees them.

She races up the steps, her legs feeling weak but powered at the same time. The doors to Jorrvaskr open and out steps Vilkas, his face red. His eyes find Diamond and panic etches over his features.

_No_!

"Diamond, wait." He says. But Diamond's steps only increase. She doesn't even see Vilkas anymore, her vision is narrowing to where she only sees the doors to the hall.

"Don't!" Vilkas screams.

Diamond bursts through the other door to avoid Vilkas' arms as they try to stop her.

The lock shatters upon her impact, and Diamond beholds the room.

There are two more Silver Hands dead, but Diamond doesn't even care. She doesn't care about the deep cuts in their sternums, she doesn't care about the blood polling into the grand fireplace. Her eyes only find the two Companions huddled around their Harbinger.

The world slows to the beat of an ancient drum.

Njada and Farkas are crouched over. Tears fall from Njada's eyes, her hand shaking as it touches Kodlak's broken body.

Kodlak is dead.


	44. Chapter 43

They didn't even leave him the decency of his armor.

Kodlak has been stripped clean; so Diamond can see every stab wound, every bruise, every bit of skin tainted with blood.

Diamond stared at the body.

There are several stab wounds to his sternum, his throat cut from ear to ear, and his chest cavity has been cracked open like a nut. His guts spill out onto the floor, and Diamond can see his heart. She almost wants to touch it, to see if it'll start beating against is she just stares at it long enough.

If it weren't for the greyness of his beard, and the warpaint still distinct on his face, Diamond would not have recognized him.

She wishes she didn't recognize him, because then this wouldn't be real.

Diamond just stays there, letting the others fan out around her as they rush to assess the cooling body in the room. That ancient, ageless drum—her heartbeat—pulses through her ears, drowning out any sound.

Kodlak was gone. That vibrant, fierce, loving soul; the Harbinger who had been called the Warrior of Time; the man who had been a beacon of hope—just like that, as if he was no more than a wisp of candlelight, he is gone.

When it had mattered most, Diamond hadn't been there.

Kodlak was gone.

Someone murmurs her name, but doesn't touch her.

There was a gleam of cerulean eyes in front of her, blocking out her vision of the Harbinger's dismembered body. Vilkas. There are tears running down his face. She reaches out a hand to touch them. They are oddly warm against her freezing, distant fingers. Her nails are dirty, bloody, cracked—so gruesome against the smooth white cheek of the warrior.

Another voice comes from behind her. "Diamond."

She doesn't turn, she only keeps staring into the warrior that has now so suddenly become her new savior. His hand reaches up to hers, tears spilling over. "I'm so sorry." his voice barely audible.

Out of her peripherals, she sees Libby slowly approach Farkas, who is just sitting next to the body. She carefully reaches out a hand to his shoulder. Just like Diamond, Farkas slowly turns to her, blinks, and blinks again.

Libby sniffs, a hand covering her mouth. She falls to her knees and wraps her arms around Farkas' shoulders. His hand reaches up to her arm, and he doesn't hesitate to nuzzle into Libby's chest. He begins to sob, his hand coated with blood, mixing with dirt under his nails.

As Diamond's hands drift down to Vilkas' throat, he suddenly grows still. Her eyes suddenly flick to Kodlak's body again, and a chill runs up her spine.

She steps away from Vilkas, carefully approaching the body. Vilkas calls to her. A warning.

Kneeling down, Libby and Farkas' eyes on her, her hand reaches out as if it is not her own. It touches Kodlak's cooling blood and pulls out a piece of paper, half of it tainted. It feels half dry in her distant fingers.

Somehow, her eyes read the elegant handwriting written on the piece of paper. It looked like it had almost been discarded after someone read it.

_I told you never to cross me. I always get what I want. – Joric_

Joric. The Prince of Morthal. The man who hired Libby to being with; hired Libby to _assassinate_ Kodlak. Prince Joric. Libitania. They did this. They killed Kodlak.

Diamond looks to Libby, the assassin lifting her head from comforting Farkas.

Her skin grows pale. "Diamond?"

Diamond rises from her spot on the floor and approaches. Libby stands, already taking a defensive stance, her hand close to her sword.

"_You_." Diamond growls, her voice barely recognizable. "_You did this_."

With a deadly calm and control, she hands Libby the note. Libby carefully takes it and reads the writing of the prince. Her eyes widen and her lips part in surprise. Her eyes gleam with tears.

She looks to Diamond. "Diamond I am so sor –"

Diamond feels the world crackle beneath her, and launches herself at Libby.

Libby was ready for a lot of things, even the attack Diamond had launched at her, but what she wasn't ready for was the note Diamond had found on Kodlak's body. Her original hire, the Prince of Morthal.

Libby had only enough time to release a dagger to block Diamond as she lunges, swiping for her face with a hand. She tackles Libby into the floor, and stinging pain burst from the line Diamond had managed to gouge across Libby's cheek with her nails. Blood slides down Libby's cheek, down her neck.

The twins each call the name of the other girl, their voices overlapping one another.

"Get back!" Libby demands. She looks up to Diamond, a controlled anger in her eyes, honed hardily into ice cold hatred. Libby recognized that anger, all too well.

The Diamond that Libby knew is gone. The girl she'd imagined as her friend again, the girl she'd hoped to share a life with again, is utterly gone. Her clothes and hands were caked with the blood of the witches in the coven.

Libby is about to slam her head into Diamond's, but someone – Farkas – his hands reach up under Diamond's arms and heave her off of Libby. Libby almost screams when she watches Farkas heavily throws Diamond to the floor, the thud nearly breaking the wood. Farkas stands over Libby, tentatively helping her up as Vilkas hollers at him, helping Diamond up off the floor.

"Farkas!" Vilkas is about to start, but Diamond's voice makes him stop.

"This is all your fault." She mumbles, but her voice grows a she speaks. "This is all your fault!"

Libby shakes her head, whimpering as Farkas helps her up. "Diamond I didn't know –"

"_I can't believe I even started believing you ever really cared! That I actually forgave you_!"

"Diamond, please," Libby cries, literally crying now, whimpering like a child being scolded by an angered parent. "Please Diamond, this isn't my fault. It was the prince!" Libby pathetically cowers into Farkas' arms, her strong warrior standing boldly like a mountain at her back.

"_He did this because of you_!"

A spark of anger. "Would you rather I stay with him and fulfill the contact? Would that make you feel better?!" Libby boldly – foolishly – challenges.

Diamond screams, her fist driving into the wooden pillar of the hall, denting the thick pillar and splinters flying. She wants to kill her, she so badly wants to kill her. She suddenly doesn't care about the deadly thing, Libby can become when angry. Diamond can be just as dangerous.

Let their anger collide. Let it rip all of Whiterun apart.

"Diamond please," Libby begs, regret tainting her tone.

Libby, actually _begging_ to her.

"This isn't my fault. Please Diamond, you have to understand that."

And Diamond does, kind of. Her anger is blocking out her common sense and level head. Diamond's eyes flick to her nails, and sees the nail of her middle finger tainted with blood. Looking to Libby, she sees the line her nail had cut down Libby's beautiful face.

It starts on her right temple, and trails down perfectly to the middle of her cheek, leveling with her lips. It's already clotting, but it's also the reason why Farkas is behind Libby like a guard dog.

Diamond snarls, taking a bold step closer. "_You are _worthless. _You are worthless and evil_!"

She bellows the last word with such soul-deep hatred that Libby feels it like a punch to the gut. She can feel herself, and Diamond can see it too, breaking as her knees buckle slightly, Farkas holding her up with his strong arms.

"Diamond!" Farkas growls.

"Don't you _dare_, even talk to me!" Diamond snaps. "How can you possibly defend her after everything that she's done?!"

"Because she wasn't here when the Silver Hand attacked! Libby didn't drive her blade into Kodlak's chest, the _Silver Hand_ did!"

"But the prince hired them because of her!" Diamond points, not even wanting to speak this bitch's name anymore.

By now Libby doesn't even hear anyone anymore. Her world has become muted, the pounding of her blood deafening her ears.

But then something registers, and Libby looks out the open doors of Jorrvaskr, and sees smoke. Her heart jars in her chest and she peels herself away from Farkas. Farkas looks to her, all eyes on her as she makes her way to the door with wooden steps. Behind her, Farkas speaks her name. It is very distant.

Bracing herself against the doorframe, ignoring the stinging of the bloodied cut down her cheek, Libby gazes out to the Cloud District, the Gildergreen bare once more its pink petals littering the ground.

And then someone shouts. "Fire!"

Libby watches as the spare guards hurry their way down the block. Libby can feel her chest caving in, threatening to compress her heart. Her world becomes muted as she watches the guards turn left.

That left turn leads to her mansion. Her home.

Libby is out the door as Farkas calls her name again.

Diamond doesn't know what happened, and frankly doesn't care. While she wants to see where Libby is running to, she will not leave her Harbinger. Farkas took off after her, and Vilkas almost went after his brother, but he stopped.

He looked to Diamond.

Diamond doesn't even see his face anymore. With Libby gone, her anger dissipates and suddenly it is replaced with unfathomable sadness. Tears fall down Diamond's eyes and she wails a she approaches Kodlak's dead body. This is a dream, or she has gone to hell after all, because she can't exist in the world where this had been done to him.

She would not leave him. She would not leave her Harbinger.

Wordlessly, she unfastened her cloak and spread it over Kodlak, covering the damage that had been done. She lies on the floor and lies beside him, stretching an arm across his middle, holding him close.

The body still smelled faintly like Kodlak. And like the cheap soap he uses, because he was too stubborn to buy some expensive brand.

Diamond buries her face in his cold shoulder. There is the smell of his sweat, of his natural body scent built up over the years of training and wearing armor in the middle of summer. It clings to his silver-grey hair, to his torn, blue lips.

She wouldn't leave him. Not for Libby. Ever again.

Footsteps approach, and a warm hand on her shoulder. A familiar smell. She wouldn't leave him.

She wouldn't leave him.

* * *

Libby hurtles though the streets, the pang of guilt upon leaving faint in the back of her mind. After she saw the guards make the first turn, she just had a horrible feeling in her stomach. She prays to the gods that she was wrong, and that she was just overreacting after seeing Kodlak's body.

She nearly vomited all over the floor. She had seen work like that done before. And she had meant to tell Diamond that, but after hearing the words that she spoke to Libby, the hatred and betrayal in her eyes . . .

She shouldn't have left her, not when she was in a place so vulnerable, and so confused. She could have sworn she heard hooves thundering after her, but there is nothing in the world except her and the distance to her home, to her servants – Sazami, Dralelle, Nimpael . . .

Her running is going mostly unnoticed by other citizens as either they are too distracted by Jorrvaskr, or because they are running in the same direction as Libby. She knew every turn before it comes up, her mind wandering off to what she will do. The word 'fire' still in her mind, she tries to calm herself.

Her servants knew exactly where the fire exits were and what to grab and how to get out. They'll be okay. They _have_ to be okay.

At the final corner turn, her house comes into sight, and Libby skids to a stop.

Her world rocks around her, and she lets out a whimper, nearly a wail until she covered her mouth.

Her home is ablaze.

The windows and shattered and broken and smoke belches out of the chimney and windows. Flames lick the sides and crawl their way up here and there, on every angle of the house until glows like the whicker of a candle. As Libby approaches, guards have already blocked off the area, and there on the sidewalk, she can see her guards dead in puddles of their blood. Their bodies indicate they put up a hell of a fight, but ultimately, they lost.

Guards are ushering citizens back, and already some of them are cleaning up the blood and lugging the bodies onto the gurneys to be taken to the healers.

Libby's eyes are overflowing with tears as she makes her way through the crowd. She has to get closer; perhaps her servants made it out and they're sitting on the sidewalk, waiting for her.

But apart from her dead guards, the sidewalk is empty.

Her name is called again, and she recognizes it as Farkas, but she doesn't stop. The closer she gets, the more she can feel the flames of the fire, even from way up the hill. The smoke turns the sky black. Guards spot her and they immediately block her off, their arms crossing and pushing her back. Libby's lips are moving, muttering something even she can't understand, and her eyes are only on her house.

This can't be happening. This isn't happening. The sky is blue, it's a lovely day today. The best day that Skyrim has had. The winter cold is just starting to melt away into the months of summer, and the warmth of the north is coming soon.

It's a beautiful day, so this isn't supposed to be happening.

Then, she hears it. A scream so strong, so filled with pain and agony that it ices her blood.

It's the scream that makes Libby drive her foot into one guard's stomach, wrench herself free and elbow the other guard in the head. They fall like bricks and Libby breaks past the gate and is sprinting up the driveway to her flaming home.

"_Libby_!"

Her entire house has transformed into smoke and flames. Burning rafters crack from above and fall in showers of sparks at her feet. The heat is horrible, but worse than the heat is the smoke. Which threatens to suffocate her at any moment. She pulls her mask up over her nose, grateful to find it coated with sweat, providing a thin veil of protection.

Even with the flames devouring most of the home, even with pieces of it already collapsing from the burned wood, Libby navigates like she always has. She first checks the basement, but as she heads down the steps, as if to forbid her from going, there's a heavy creaking above and Libby leaps back, barely missing the roof of the basement stairway collapse.

Scrambling back up the stairs, Libby starts to gag, choking on the smoke as it begins to work its way past her mask. Quickly, she scours the main floor, and all too soon she trips over something that nearly sends to her crashing into the charred couch of her formal living room. Pushing to her hand and knees, Libby looks back, and gasps, immediately choking afterwards.

Nimpeal.

She's dead. But she didn't suffer from the flames or smoke inhalation, in fact the way her body is position, she was just on her way out the door. Libby quickly goes to her shaking her shoulder. "Nimpeal!"

Nothing.

"Nimpeal, please!" she begs, tears stinging her eyes. "Please, please _get up_!"

Libby manages to shove Nimpeal over on her back, ready to give her the Kiss of Life, until she sees her neck. Nimpeal's neck has been sliced from ear to ear, dried blood trailing down her neck and smearing onto her homespun dress.

"_Nimpeal_!" Libby wails.

Looking ahead, she cries out in agony.

The entire hallway leading from the formal living room is littered with the bodies of her servants. All cut or stabbed or mauled in one way or another. Again, done by a familiar hand that Libby recognizes. Some of the blood has dried in the heat, but there are still puddles here and there, gleaming crimson in the light of the flames.

Libby lets out another wail, and violently shakes Nimpael, hoping somehow, just somehow it'll bring her back to life. She begs to the corps to move, to turn her head and say something, to be given the chance to look into her Bosmer's brown eyes once more and give her promise words of retribution.

There's a deep thud from above, upstairs, and Libby forces herself to rise from the hall of bodies. She turns back towards them whispering, "I love you" to them all before sprinting for the stairs. She leaps over a burning rafter, but not high enough. The tail end of her cloak catches on fire, but Libby doesn't stop.

In a matter of minutes, she is coughing heavily and her throat is burning. She's covered in ash by now, and her lungs begin to feel like they are being cooked, her coughing sending searing pain through them. As she makes it to the top of the stairs, she looks all around for . . . a sign. Something.

The smoke is thicker up here, so the source of the fire is near. Libby blocks her face with her arms and navigates her way through, sweat forming all over her body. Somehow she manages to check all available rooms, at least the ones that weren't already caved in.

Then her heart sinks when she reaches her room. Its door is wide open, and light form the outside is pooling in. When Libby reaches the door, she doubles over and heaves. Crouching on her hands and knees, she retches until her throat burns and something acidic makes its way into her nose. Swirls of smoke catch in the sunbeams and now Libby is trembling and light-headed now form gasping.

Suddenly her coughing is accompanied by another. Forgetting her pain and cooking lungs, Libby hurries inside her bedroom, finding it disturbingly untouched by everything. Little flames, little smoke – though the floor above collapsed into her room. More burning rafters are slanted here and there and her crystal chandelier has crashed, scattering diamond shaped shreds all across the floor.

She hears the coughing again and Libby looks to the corner of her room, by her desk. And there is Sazami, crushed underneath said rafters, coughing and drooling and her fur just covered in soot until she as black as ebony. But to Libby, the female Khajiit is the greatest sight she's ever seen.

"_Sazami_!" Libby screams, hurrying over. She slides to her knees and holds Sazami's shoulders. "Sazami! Sazami it's me!" she tries to pull at her servant's arms, trying to get some reaction out of her.

Thankfully, Sazami coughs. Shaking, she lifts her head up and smiles to Libby. "Little child. You've come back." She whispers, her voice hoarse from smoke and her fur is clumped together from sweat.

"Hang on, I'm going to get you out of here." Libby says ready to lift the rafter so Sazami could crawl out. But then Sazami grabs Libby's wrist, so hard that her claws dig into her skin. Libby doesn't scream, in fact she barely feels the pain; her adrenaline powering her like nothing she's ever experienced.

"No. You have to go." Sazami pleads.

"_I am not leaving you_!" Libby protest.

"It is too late for me, child." Sazami says, looking to her half-crushed body beneath the rafters. Libby doesn't even want to imagine how Sazmai's legs could look. But people lose limbs all the time in Skyrim. She could live.

She will live.

Sazami's clawed hand grips Libby tighter, and even with the smoke and heat, she still feels the warmth of the blood running down her wrist. "You must take this."

She hands Libby the papers of the rebels. The papers she had kept on her desk all the time. The papers of Erelia Glendeylin.

Did she . . . did she come into Libby's room, regardless of her life, for the papers?!

"What? What do I do with those?!" Libby says, her voice scratching as her throat becomes dryer.

Sazami look to her and smiles. "Change Skyrim."

Libby watches as Sazami's body slumps, Libby catching her in her arms. "No, no, no. Sazami. Sazami! Come one, stay with me!"

Libby shakes her, trying to get her to wake up.

"Sazami!"

As she screams, there's a heavy groaning from above and Libby screams, instinctively using herself to cover Sazami as something comes crashing through the ceiling and crashing into Libby's old bathroom, more flames roar and push their way towards her and Sazami. She grits her teeth as she feels glass and hot splinters get into her back. She forgot about the open claw marks left on her back by the Glenmoril witch, exposing her skin.

Sazami groans again and Libby tries to pull a small piece of the rafter up. It has been burning, it could easily break and she can drag Sazami out with her. She's not leaving her.

All too soon she flashes back to when her and her father were fleeing their home as their house was set afire, guards of some unknown origin chasing after them. The heat. The flames. The blood.

"Child," Sazami grunts, her voice nearly gone. "Please. Go. And bring this with you." She says, handing Libby her papers once more. "Please."

"Sazami, no! I'm not leaving you." Libby cries, kneeling down and grabbing her Khajiit servant anyway she can.

Then Libby cries as she feels Sazami's claws rake across her upper arm. Libby scrambles back, more blood leaving from her arm, the papers in her hand.

"Go!" Sazami demands. A fierce compassion and determination in her eyes, but also sadness, and agony. Softly she says. "Just go."

Another heavy groaning, and both women look up to find another rafter crash through the ceiling.

Libby looks to Sazami in time as wood and brick come crashing down. Slowly, blood beings to pool out from under the pile.

Libby's scream echoes throughout the fiery mansion. It rattles the foundation and somehow, scares even the flames out of her room.

Libby starts to crawl towards the pile, hoping to find Sazami still alive. But suddenly there are arms around her, lifting her from the ground. Flashes of white and yellow indicate guards, and they're leading her out of the room.

"No, please." Libby weeps. "No, please! _Please, no_!" Even as she speaks, Libby realizes her voice is laced with something wrong. Almost insanity. She fights against the guards as they haul her out of her home, Libby never taking her eyes off of the wood and stone now piled atop Sazami. They didn't see her. They don't know she's there. They don't know she can still be helped.

Libby cries. Weeps like she's never wept before. Her great, racking sobs echo through the chamber like the sounds of tortured pain. But the guards don't listen. They are strong, and Libby is too fatigued from the smoke to fight them off. She can only scream like a wild animal as they drag her out of her home.

The fresh air makes Libby's lungs ache and her screams are cut off from more coughing, and spitting up tainted bile. The sun is still shining, the clouds are peacefully moving along, careless of three chaos below. Libby's blood is leaving a smeared trail behind her.

Citizens are handing buckets of water to each other in a line to throw onto the flames. The guards are giving her a verbal thrashing of a lifetime, but Libby doesn't hear them. As they make it down to the gates, the bodies of her guards gone, their dried puddles of blood all that remains, a sudden burst of fire erupts from the front door, like the belch of a dragon. Everyone scrambles back, the guards hovering over Libby as the balconies from above come crashing down, blocking the front door, and the sides of the house collapse in on each other.

That's it.

The guards set Libby down on the sidewalk, ordering someone to bring her some water, calling for healers. Mages are around her house now, thrusting their hands outwards, splaying ice or absorbing the fire.

Still gripping the papers Sazami had given her, her papers that she always kept on her desk, the papers of the rebels and their information, Libby almost wats to burn them herself, but apart from the scratches on her wrist and arms, it's all she has left of her lovely Khajiit servant.

"_Libby_!" Farkas screams, breaking past the crowd to slide to knees to her. "Libby, by the gods, are you –?"

Farkas doesn't even finish the sentence. One look in Libby's eyes and he knows.

He holds her face in his, his lip quivering. He only holds her close, wrapping her in his arms, like she did him in Jorrvaskr. Libby would say they understand each other's pain, but no, Libby has been through this more than enough times. But it would seem like Death is not done with her yet.

_Your bloodshed has only just begun_. The witch had said.

Libby just rests her head against Farkas' chest, grateful for his cold armor. He rubs her head and whispers words of promise in her ear, but Libby can't hear them. He promises they will get through it, as if their pains are similar. But he is far from right. She's bene through this before, but this could be the time she doesn't come back.

She is gone.

A guard speaks with them, but Farkas handles the talking, the guard making an exception for him. He is a Companion. He hands Farkas a cup of water. No doubt the water has special properties of the healers on sight. Something for her that and for the smoke damage. But Libby doesn't take it. Farkas tries to coax it into her, but Libby only stares into space.

She is gone. She is broken.

"There! There she is!" A voice calls out. A familiar voice. One that sends a shiver down Libby's spine, and one that suddenly feels her anger as absolute as the fire that just devoured her servants and her home.

All hands turn as the guard closes the black gates, securing the property while the mages try to handle the mess.

Libby's spine shivers when she beholds the Prince of Morthal, and his small army of guards around him.


	45. Chapter 44

"That's her!" he screams, pointing a ringed finger at her. "That's Skyrim's Assassin! And she murdered the Harbinger!"

It all happened so fast that Libby only had enough time to shove the papers into Farkas' arms before the prince's guards shove their way through the crowd and make their way to Libby.

Farkas growls and stands protecting her, arguing on what is going on. And as the guards try to shove him aside, Farkas punches one of them in the stomach and uses his limp body to careen him into the second one. The rest of the guards draw their swords, and the guards of Whiterun join in.

"This does not concern you, Companion." He says with still respect in his tone. "You are dealing with the most dangerous assassin in all of Tamriel."

"Her debt has been paid!" he hollers.

"She's charged for the murder of Kodlak Whitemane, witnessed by His Highness of Morthal."

_The bastard_ . . .

"Are you out of your god-dammed –!"

"Guards! Arrest her!"

Prince Joric's guards shove their way to her, Farkas ready to protect her, helping Libby to her feet. Disturbingly, nothing about the situation scares her.

She is gone, and broken and . . . worthless.

Suddenly Farkas is yanked away from her, and Libby screams again. It has no words, it has no form other than it is loud and wailing like that of a woman being murdered. She lunges for Farkas, but the guards of Morthal, with their green and black uniforms, have her arms pined behind her back. Yet she doesn't fight.

They haul Libby to her feet and push her along, and slowly she sees a prison wagon coming closer. Panic sets in, and her thoughts are shattered. She's thrashing against the guards as the wagon comes closer, guards opening up the doors and drawing their swords and prepping shackles.

Then, through the throng of the crowd, over the cacophony of noise of Farkas screaming and thrashing, over the murmurs of the crowd as they part for Libby's walk to the wagon, she sees it.

A speck of blonde in the crowd.

Diamond.

The noise must've drawn her to the home, or because the guards are needing ot prepare Kodlak's body for a funeral. But still, she's here.

Through the blackness that is now her heart, Libby feels a small speck of hope breath through. It is faint, it is small. But it's there.

Farkas sees her too and he hollers at her to help. Diamond's eyes are as cold and dead as Libby's possibly. She almost wants to laugh; even in dark times, they are alike.

The guards of Whiterun shove Libby to her knees as they find Diamond. Somehow, for some reason, they ask her, "What shall we do with her Companion. There has been somewhat of an impasse regarding the death of Kodlak." He bows his head and mumbles. "My condolences."

Diamond doesn't say anything, her face placid and dead. She stares at Libby, and she can almost feel her anger, as real and as harsh as the fire of her home.

Then, she feels her world break as Diamond speaks.

"Put her somewhere I'll never have to see her face again. And let her rot!"

* * *

That.

That moment Libby looked into Diamond's eyes and saw nothing but pure hatred and anger, choosing without regret to send her friend back to prison without even the thought of listening to her side of the story.

That is the moment that breaks everything Libitania Desidenius is and had promised to be.

That is the moment she cannot face.

For she knows the meaning of those words. Of that decision.

Deep inside, she hears an anguished wailing – the wordless kneeing of unbearable grief.

Libby can't stand to hear it. To feel it. To let it live.

A yawning pit of darkness within her opens wide, whispering promises to take the pain. Swallow the loss. Make it possible to draw a breath without choking on the shattered pieces no one will ever fix.

Loss is a gaping hole with jagged teeth, and Libby can't bear it. The wall of grief inside her slowly subsided into a well of icy silence – deafening and absolute. It rips Libby in two, cutting her off from everything she can't stand to face.

She only hears Farkas wailing at Diamond, fighting against the guards. She only watches Diamond turn way, without looking back. She can't look away from the Companion, her world seemingly breaking away with Diamond with every step she takes.

Libby catches a glimpse of a sword. She slowly turns her head.

In one swift motion, the rounded pommel connects with her head and she welcomes the darkness to come.


	46. Chapter 45

Libby knew where she was before she even opened her eyes. And she didn't care.

It was quiet, and damp, and cold, and reeks of mildew and refuse.

Hours have passed, she could tell because she doesn't have a pulsing headache, and when she wriggles her toes and fingers, she could tell that all of her weapons have been removed. She had to be in the royal dungeons in Whiterun, because she's been in all of the prisons of Skyrim, and this one has a much better smell than the ones of Morhtal. No doubt she's probably awaiting transport, or perhaps they'll keep her here one of the two. She wonders if Whiterun would want the reputation of being the Hold known to keep Skyrim's Assassin prisoner.

At least she's still in the city. She wonders what Farkas and Diamond are doing right now. And what Prince Morthal is doing right now as well. Farkas is probably being held back by Vilkas to keep from mauling Diamond alive, the prince probably staying either in Dragonsreach, or in some fancy inn in the Cloud District thinking of ways he will get Libby executed.

And Diamond . . . Diamond is probably curled up in Kodlak's bed, sleeping or weeping until her tears have run dry. Just the thought alone makes Libby want to weep as well. She was close. So close to getting Diamond back, so close to getting back what they had years before things all went to Hell. And just like the gods are playing with her life, it is all taken away.

Libby shifts her legs slightly, shivering heavily when cold metal presses against her ankles and knees. For a moment, panic sinks in and she worries she is back in Cidhna Mines for the briefest of seconds. Thankfully the sound of a closing door and the mumbling of guards breaches her ears.

Libby opens her eyes and indeed finds herself in Dragonsreach dungeon. She had been dumped onto a rotten pallet of hay and chained to the wall. Her feet had also been shackled to the floor, both sets given just enough slack so that she could reach the bucket in the corner for relieving herself.

No windows, and not enough space between the iron door and the threshold for anything more than light to squeeze through. Good. She didn't want to see the outside. Her home had been on a hill overlooking the Hold, including the prisons. Even from here she could've seen her house.

A sob chokes Libby, and she covers her mouth to muffle the sound as warm tears permeate her palm.

Her home. It was gone.

Her servants; they were burned, crushed and buried. And she won't be there to identify them. She won't be there for when they are to be buried. She won't be able to send their remains back to their homelands to be safely buried into the cold, cold earth. She won't be able to say any last words to them, prayers of hope that they found peace in the Otherworld, and may they be forever be happy now in the kingdom of their Gods. She won't be able to leave bouquets of their favorite flowers on their stones for their birthdays.

More sobs, more choking. She can't cry in here, not with the stones echoing her voice across the dungeon. She won't give the guards the pride that she is already broken – even if it is true. She has lost everything. Again. She is living the same story again and again.

The nights she had lost bother her parents, she had been forced to abandon them both. Not able to give final words, not able to steal one last embrace to remember how warm they felt, how strong they felt in her arms.

Now here she is again, locked away in the dark with only the memory of her previous life to keep her company. She lost Diamond. She lost Kodlak. She lost her servants and she lost her home. There is Farkas, there is the Guild, but there's no way the guards will even let Farkas come close to the dungeons after the behavior he displayed. And the Guild . . . they don't entangle themselves in matters such as this, and truthfully, Libby doesn't want them to make an exception of her. She brought this on herself.

Another sniff of her nose, and Libby sloppily wipes it on the back of her wrist. Her mouth is parched, her tongue leaden in her mouth. Looking to her left, a plate of bread and soft cheese, along with an iron cup of water lies on the floor on the other side of the cell. Libby unwinds herself, her joints complaining and feeling stiff as boards.

Her hands don't quite feel like themselves as she pulls the tray of food towards her, the metal scraping against the old, damp stones. Her hands are still black with soot and smoke stains. They hadn't even bothered to clean her or wipe her hands and face? She reels of smoke and sweat and her clothes are stiff with it.

Libby's shoulders slouch, suddenly losing the motivation to do anything. Heaviness infuses her body, as if there's liquid lead in her veins.

She's done. She has nothing else to give.

Everything that made her Libitania is gone. Her friends. Her hone. Her freedom.

Libitania Desidenius is gone. There is nothing left of her.

There is nothing of the girl who defied all odds and survived when life tried to break her. Not this time. There is no Solantir, defender of the weak when she couldn't even save her servants from a fire. There is no Savior to refugees when they met their end at the hands of fire and suffocation. She is no hero. She never could be.

There is nothing anymore.

It would have been better if she stayed in Cidhna Mines. Better to have died there.

Now she can forever live with the image if Diamond sentencing her to her death. Forever remember the absolute hatred in Diamond's eyes as she stared in them. Forever remember that she will never, in a hundred, million millennials, _ever_ get her back. All that will remain are the last words Diamond had spoken to her. The last thing her friend had thought of her.

_You are worthless. You are worthless and evil_!

Her cheeks are warm once more. And they drop into the still untouched food of her tray. Her nostrils flaring, Libitania kicks it aside, scattering the bread and cheese and cup of water. It was probably sedated anyway. Maybe she can kill herself from starvation before they transport her to . . . to wherever.

Now that she has lost everything, there is nothing left for her outside of the dungeons that's worth fighting for. Not when Skyrim's Assassin is crumbling apart, and her world with her.

She will make herself feel as dead as she feels on the inside.

Libitania is dead.

Days go on forever, and Libitania doesn't care. She doesn't even consider herself a person anymore. Not when she felt so hollow and ashen inside. With each day that passes by, that flickering light, that hope inside of her gutters.

And goes out.

* * *

Diamond wakes in a bed that isn't her own. It was never her own. She doesn't remember scrawling into Kodlak's bed, but after witnessing everything that had transpired yesterday, exhausted was the biggest understatement.

There is something missing in the world, something vital. She rises from the depths of slumber, and it takes her a long moment to sort out what had changed.

She might have thought that she was still Kodlak's protégé, still Vilkas' rival, still content to be the apprentice of her loving Harbinger forever and ever. She might have believed it if it weren't for the feeling of dread in her stomach.

Kodlak is gone. Reality opens up and swallows her whole.

There will be no more breakfast conversation with Kodlak, nor will there be any more lessons on fighting. There would be no one else in all of Skyrim like him.

She could tell without looking that someone had scrubber her clean. Someone had also propped open the door to Kodlak's bedroom to allow the gentle light of the scones to flood into the dark chamber.

Snuggling herself down under Kodlak's comforter, Diamond breathes in the scent from his pillow. Kodlak had been the pride of Whiterun, of many kingdoms. The court that he and Libby spoke about would never be. She needed to say the words out loud to herself, but she couldn't.

She couldn't face it. Couldn't face the fact that the once-bright soul had bene extinguished. To know that Kodlak had been here, on this earth, and he had been all that was good and brave and wonderful.

Outside of this rotten, festering court and kingdom, the rest of Skyrim loved Kodlak. It was hard not to. Diamond had adored Kodlak from the moment he saved her from her own drunken misery.

Diamond put a hand to her chest. How absurd – how utterly absurd and useless – that her heart still beat and Kodlak's didn't.

And how Libby's heart still beats as well. Despite her anger that blinded her and clouded her judgment, Diamond remembers the events that transpired after she had found Kodlak dead and clawed a scar down Libby's cheek. She hopes it scars. She hopes she would never see her again. If she did, she would kill her.

She remembers.

She remembers hearing a scuffle down the block from Jorrvaskr. Vilkas had somehow managed to coax her up from Kodlak's body so that they guards could take it and prep it for the funeral.

Then there was this scream. This scream that was so full of pain and agony that Diamond somehow found herself walking towards it without realizing. She remembers seeing Libby's big, beautiful mansion ablaze, and there was Libby covered in blackness, her arm and wrist red with blood from scratches. Farkas was there to calm her down, but Diamond knew Libby was gone.

And then she heard the Prince of Morthal calling Libby out as Skyrim's Assassin, and the guards tackled her, and started to escort her to the dungeons of Dragonsreach.

Somehow, Libby had found Diamond in the crowd of people, but didn't say anything. And Diamond still walked closer as the guard shoved Libby at her feet.

When the guards asked her what they should do, the answer was almost too easy. And when Diamond said, it she had absolutely no regrets.

And she still doesn't, despite the pain in her split lip. The cut that Farkas created after the guards knocked Libby unconscious and threw her into the wagon.

Diamond remembers Farkas tackling her, a good few punches to the face and more of her blood spilt onto the stones. But at that point, Diamond was so far gone that the pain was very distant. Vilkas hauled his ass off of her and Aela and Torvar picked her up. But Vilkas quickly said some muffled orders and carried her back to the hall.

He was whispering something to her, but Diamond didn't listen. She only rested her head on his shoulder and allowed a couple of tears to fall.

Only now does Diamond realize the heavy weight of her decisions to throw Libby into the dungeons. In her heart, she knew that she could've easily turned things on Prince Joric. She could've easily whipped out her dagger and pin his royal ass to the floor. He had hired someone the Silver Hand to kill Kodlak, but still her mind turns to Libby.

Because she's the easiest to blame, or because he's done things like this before. Either way, she's lost her too. And she's lost Farkas, for he will never want to see her again.

She has nothing left anymore.

There's a creak in the floorboards and Diamond instinctively turns and finds Vilkas standing in the doorway, dressed down in a tunic and pants, carrying a tray of food.

"You're up." He whispers.

Diamond turns her body to him, gazing at him in the warm, buttery glow. He accepts that as an invitation to come in, and sets the tray down on the bedside table. Diamond carefully watches him as she sits down at the edge of the bed. He doesn't say anything, and neither does she.

Nothing is going to be okay, they both know this. But they are going through this loss together; and somehow – that is much more comforting than any words he could offer.

Vilkas reaches his hand out and cups Diamond's face. Briefly, she nuzzles into his palm, the callus and smell of iron are similar to Kodlak's.

"Take as long as you need." Vilkas he says quietly.

"What about the others?" she asks, equally as quiet.

"They will handle the grief in their own ways, as will you, and as will I."

Diamond's lip wobbles. "He didn't die an old man in his bed."

"No, he didn't. But when his spirit left his body, there was no more pain – no more fear. He is safe now."

Diamond nods against the pillow. The bed sheets rustle again as Vilkas inches himself closer to Diamond, rubbing his hand on her shoulder. As if his hand had a magical touch, Diamond's eyes well up with tears and sobs fight their way out of her throat.

Vilkas doesn't even do anything as Diamond its up and throws herself into his arms. She realizes she is wearing a shirt nightgown, but she doesn't care, and she knew Vilkas didn't either.

Diamond didn't realize how cold she was until she found herself burrowing into Vilkas' warmth.

The warrior doesn't say anything as Diamond buries her face in his chest and weeps.

Diamond didn't get out of bed that day. And she didn't get out of if the next.

Or the next.

Or the next.

* * *

In his rooms of Jorrvaskr, Farkas lies on his side staring at his wall. His armor lay cast around the floor from where he discarded it. Underneath him, the pelts and hay felt like such filth compared to the luxuries of Libby's mansion, and the bed felt so big – too big for him.

His anger has not sufficed since he launched himself at Diamond after she let the Prince's guards knock Libby unconscious and drag her away in the prions wagon to Dragonsreach. He attempted to follow, but the guards were on strict and high alert on him after what he did to protect Libby.

He thought Vilkas would give him a verbal thrashing of the century, but it must've bene the look in Farkas' eyes, or perhaps the way he walked that made him say otherwise. Watching Libby get thrown into that cart, hearing Diamond bring down the axe that was Libby's freedom . . . Farkas can't even look to her the same way again. He probably can't even bear to see Diamond in fear he'll just kill her on the spot.

The idea of his wolf fangs piercing into that whelp's neck made him smile grimly.

The only thing he has of Libby's, that she somehow managed to rescue were folders of papers that Farkas kept secure at his side, or rather hidden in his armor until they reached Jorrvaskr. Then he simply chucked them on his desk and threw himself into bed.

He doesn't remember falling asleep, but by the time he awoke, it was already late evening and he had missed dinner. He had locked himself in his room, ignoring all who came to the door. Then after a couple of hours, his door was silent.

Turning on his side, his gaze falls to his desk, and the folders scattered sloppily. Out of everything she could get, why the papers? They had to be important in some manner, but Farkas didn't bother looking into them yet. Was it really his place? Libby didn't give it to him to look ad to keep to remember her by. She gave it to him out of impulse to make sure –

To make sure the guards didn't get to them. Whatever was in those files was important. All the more reason he shouldn't look through them. Half of him thinks that Libby will masterly lockpick her way out of the dungeon cell and sneak her way back to him. However, the other half believes that Libby won't even try.

She didn't even fight when the guards grabbed her. She didn't even say anything when Diamond sent her there to rot.

She has given up. Farkas knew she had to. And now he can't reach her to try and pull her back out of that darkening abyss that threatens to swallow the woman he has come to love so dearly.

He is already going through his grief with Kodlak. Tears have been shed, and anger has been released through 'different' means . . . and he can feel himself already starting to accept his departure. But still, he has a ways to go, and they still have the funeral. Only then can he come to terms with his death, as well as slaughter the remains of the Silver Hand that had escaped.

The files on his desk seem to peak his curiosity more and more as he stare at it; but he's already suffered through so much today, as has everyone else. Could he really handle what was inside those folders? A small pinch in his gut says no, and it says that he has no right. It was Libby's property, and he just – he just can't.

Right now he can't do anything else while Libby sits rotting in that dungeon, chained like an animal. He almost feels like he has been broken in his soul when his Libby was taken away from him.

And this time, he doesn't know if he will ever see her again.

He had heard rumors among the talkative guards that she is to be escorted outside of the city to Mortal where it is there they will decide her fate. The court will not be hosted in Whiterun, as the hold is grieving the loss of Kodlak.

They can't take her away. They just can't. He hopes that the Guild will somehow intervene: attack the wagon, a kidnapping, a bribe – something! Something so that he won't have to say goodbye to his Libby.

At the mere thought, all of the strength goes out of him, and suddenly he feels himself grow heavier. Everything inside him screams for just one more kiss, one more word, one more glance. One more.

One more.

Suddenly fueled and wanting to do something to distract his mind, Farkas springs up out of the bed and goes over to his desk. He sits and organizes the files into a neat pile. Carefully, he opens the first one on top – a journal. There is no label, and so when he opens it up, he finds writings and writings of random things, but done in Libby's beautiful, elegant handwriting.

Reading through them, his eyes find the word _rebel_ for nearly every other word, followed by many mentions of Erelia Glendeylin.

His heart sinks.

He flips through the pages, reading through more and more until he begins to see understand the story. There's a whole other section of the journal dedicated to the Ancient Falmer Language. Controlling his breathing, Farkas looks through the pile and finds a genealogy book filled with records of the Snow Elf Empire. There aren't that many dates, but some of the important ones such as when the Queen was attacked and assassinated.

Has – has Libby been plotting with the rebels this entire time? Is that why she almost never stayed at Jorrvaskr? Was she ever really visiting Princess Nassari and –? He can recall more than once of watching her sit at her desk for hours looking over things that he never bothered to ask, mostly because she usually wore some kind of lacy attire.

He flips to another page and a folded piece of paper slips out. Farkas takes it out and carefully unfolds it.

It's, it's a map, with red X's marked all over it.

But – but what does it mean?


	47. Chapter 46

The world flashes. Dungeons and rotten hay, cold stone against her cheek and shackles on her wrist and ankles, guards talking, bread and cheese and water. Libby barely eats anything, or drinks anything, carefully carrying through with her own annihilation. The guards don't suspect much, though she is still weary of the day they will begin to force feed her, and she doesn't want to use the bucket in the corner, that is an indecency she will never allow herself to have again.

She is making good progress; to the point where she will soon cross the threshold of starvation she endured in Cidhna Mines. She can picture herself now: a yellow-skinned bag of bones will hollow eyes and a dead will.

That is until three guards walk in, bows aimed at her and swords in hand. Three days have passed, somehow. They toss her a bucket and rag to her, ordering her to clean herself up for her trial. Libby obeys, and she doesn't struggle as they give her new shackles to her wrists and ankles – shackles she can walk in. Still no fresh change of clothes.

They lead her down a dark, cold hallway that echoes with murmurs of guards and of prisoners. The guards tell her she will be transported to Morthal, and from the trial will begin. Of course the prince would want to bring her to Morthal. He'll want to stab her in any way he can before he and the court decide her execution. Libby's eyes well up, but she doesn't lift her hands.

She doesn't do anything.

They lead her out towards the back of Dragonsreach, probably to avoid eyes of the public. Whether it be a crowd of curious onlookers wanting to see her face, or to throw tomatoes at her for the accusation of her killing Kodlak.

She lifts her head and a prison wagon is there waiting, with two more guards flanking the open door and the three steps leading into the darkness.

This is it. This is where she is getting transported to Morthal, and then her trial will begin. Then it will be days, or even hours until she is executed.

Libitania doesn't flinch. And doesn't care.

The world has become a blur of colors and noises. She can pick familiars here and there: children playing, people talking, the sounds of animals penned behind houses. She can smell the flowers of the Gildergreen, the spices and sweets of Whiterun. She can feel the wind at her back, as well as the cold shackles entombing her wrists and ankles.

This is all she will have to remember. Small pieces of the outside world. Her new home will now forever be darkness and ash.

She can sense it all, but at the same time, she cannot.

Walking with wooden steps, she keeps her gaze downcast, watching her still-bloodied boots walk across the pavement. Why hadn't they bothered to change her clothes? Surely having a blood-covered assassin won't be very favorable during trial.

But then again, they might not want to help her at all.

There is suddenly wood beneath her feet, groaning underneath her weight. The only sound of mourning she will have. The guards were at least nice enough to not shove her into the wagon. Let her walk with some decency left.

She is inside, and the door slams shut and then there's the turning of multiple locks. Standing in the middle of the wagon, she watches through the small window high on the door, guards walking past and the mumbling chatter. There's the snap of reins, Libby cringing thinking it's the sounds of a whip. The wagon jostles and Libitania tumbles to the floor. She pushes herself back, back, back until she's pressed against the corner, her chains rattling slightly.

She pulls her knees into her chest, resting her chin as she stares out the window. She can see the Gildergreen in the distance, buds of the new spring already coming up. She can see Jorrvaskr, the streets she knew so well, the people milling about and taking long glances at the prison wagon, wondering if Skyrim's Assassin is really inside. Each passing by far too quickly. They turn a corner and Libby instantly recognizes the avenue of where her house once stood. She tells herself to look away, but her body isn't even listening to her anymore.

The hill comes in sight, barriers stood up around the pile of rubble that was once her luxurious home, an admiration for even the highest of nobles in Whiterun. She can see figures in the distance, but doesn't care to know who they are. She wonders if they're still retrieving bodies.

They come to the marketplace, the smells of food wafting into her nose, and her stomach whines in protest. She holds her middle, willing herself to stop. She rests her head against the musty wooden wall, listening to the sounds of life and hustle of the hold, the clink of her chuckles around her wrists and ankles, the rumbling chatter and occasional laughter of the guards.

But while she is aware of it all, while she is trying to take them in, a deafening sort of silence has settled over her like a cloak. The silence that hardened her heart and swallowed the loss that she could not face. It shuts out everything. She knew she was hungry, she knew she was thirsty, and that her wrist are stinging from the metal, but it was all very faint.

Slowly her eyes lift and she sees the domed ceiling of Jorrvaskr. There is where Diamond is mourning the loss of her beloved Harbinger, wasting away the days while her grief hovers over her. She might recover, she might not. Libby doesn't know anymore. Even through the hardened silence, Libby can still hear Diamond's last words to her. And every time she does, she only wants to cover her ears and cry, begging to them to stop.

She touches the long scar trailing down her left eye. It starts just at the tip of her temple and slowly drags down over her eye, stopping level with her lip. She deserved it. It was because of the Prince that Kodlak died. He wanted revenge on Libby for backing out of the contract, but he also just wanted Kodlak dead long before he even consulted to Libby for help. That's what Diamond doesn't understand.

But Farkas did. And right now Farkas is in that hall – with her papers. Her heart skips a beat. She had shoved the papers to Farkas because she knew the guards were going to catch her. And if they found her with that information . . .

Now that things with her and Diamond have shattered completely, and with Nassari off away in one of the rebel camps, there was no one else she could give the information to. Even though she knew he would understand its importance, she is worried he will jump to conclusions, and she will once again never get the chance to explain it to him.

In those documents are the locations of all the rebel camps, the names of some of their soldiers, their plans of attacks on the Stromcloaks and Imperials. And every possible information there is on Erelia Glendeylin. Not just records of the past, but those of the future. Everything is in those documents, and now Farkas has them.

The fate of Skyrim rests in his hands. What he chooses to do with it, she can't tell, and can't stop.

Her chest heaves and a small whimper comes out of her lips. Her cheeks feel warm with tears. Once he reads those documents, he will not love her anymore. He won't. She just knew it. He will look at her in disgust, chastise her for keeping such information from him.

Lies will once again ruin her life, and she won't even have to be present for the incident.

The wagon hits a rut, jostling her so hard that her head knocks into the wall. Even that pain was distant. The freckles of light dance like falling snow. Like ash. Ash from a world burned into nothing – lying in ruins around her. She could taste the ash of that dead world on her chapped lips and leaden tongue.

The world is dead.

Her hope is dead.

_She_ is dead. She does not feel like herself anymore, nor does she feel like anything else but a sad, pathetic girl who thought she could actually repair her broken world.

There is no more Libitania Desidenius. She was lost when her home was abolished and her only friend turned her back in brash hatred.

Libitania Desidenius is dead.

There's a shout by one of the guards, and she faintly hears and feels the groaning of the main gates of Whiterun.

A tremor went down her fingers. She rests her head against her knees.

They pass under the archway, the brief shadows sending shivers racking down her back. Then it slowly drags away, the sounds of the gates faintly closing behind them. She is out.

There's the second archway of the drawbridge, and the guards watchtowers. There's the sound of talking Khajiit who usually camp outside the city and Libby covers her ears, almost wanting to scream.

No one is coming to help her.

Her lips tremble so hard that her next word almost doesn't sound, but with herself being her only company, she doesn't mind. With uneven breaths, the assassin forces herself to say it.

"_Goodbye_."

* * *

"Any changes in her behavior?"

"She got out of bed."

"And?"

"And now she's sitting in the chair of Kodlak's desk, just staring at it. It's the same as yesterday: she got out of bed, sat in the chair all day, then got back into bed at sundown."

Standing in the candlelit hallway of Jorrvaskr, Torvar's usual jovial face is grim. He had been carefully watching Diamond since she stalked to Kodlak's quarters and went to bed without word – or a bath. She hasn't come up from the living quarters in the three days since she had sentenced Libitania to jail.

"Is she still not speaking?" Vilkas asks, the warrior constantly checking up on Diamond while keeping control of the Companions and Jorrvaskr itself.

Torvar shakes his head. Aela says she just sits there and stares at the desk. Won't speak. Still barely touching her food."

Vilkas sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Alright, well, don't try to stop her if she leaves, just follow her and make sure she doesn't to anything . . . dramatic."

Torvar nods. The fact that he isn't denying she would do something as dramatic as Vilkas is thinking only make shim nauseated. With a nod, Vilkas leaves Torvar be and heads upstairs.

Vignar has taken up the responsibility of Jarl Balgruuf and how the assassin was involved in the Companions. Though to everyone's dismay – especially Farkas – he went along with the story of Libby murdering Kodlak.

That is until Farkas had a little "chat" with him, and literally dragged the old man to the Jarl's throne where he told the truth of how Libby managed to get initiated into the Companions. While Balgruuf suggested they go along with the story to preserve their reputation, one glare from Farkas had him change his mind.

It wasn't just Diamond they had lost the day Kodlak died, but Farkas as well.

Much like Diamond, all he does is stay locked in his room, only leaving for meals. And even then he barely acknowledges everyone else. Vilkas can see it in his brother: his trust and reliability in everyone is gone. Because they did not stop the guards, and they didn't deny Diamond's claim to throw Libby into the dungeons. At least he's looking, well – still eating, still sleeping.

Eorlund is prepping Kodlak's funeral while the body rests in the Hall of the Dead. Perhaps once the funeral has ebbed then things will become much lighter. And perhaps it will give Diamond the closure she needs. She and Kodlak didn't leave things on a bad note, but she probably did want to say a goodbye of sorts. Or she just expected to see Kodlak die peacefully in his bed.

Still, he only hopes that Diamond can recover from this. It pains him to see her like this.

He misses the woman he has come to love. The spunky, impulsive blonde whelp who so quickly worked her way to being a member of the Circle.

He's loved Diamond for years. He's loved her since she walked in a huge mess, and watched her transform herself. Bettered herself. And while he knew it wasn't smart to argue with her, it was just amusing when she was hopping mad, or embarrassed.

He hasn't seen a flicker of that woman since Kodlak's death. He had heard brief stories of her past while she was talking with Kodlak, at the time he was annoyed how she always had his time. But he heard enough, knew enough.

And a woman of her age, or just any woman at all shouldn't have to go through something like that. To feel like an outcast among the Brotherhood, and to come and find it all burned and members dead.

A shiver runs down his spine at the parallel of Libby's recent endeavor.

But then she ended up pushing away her only friend and decided it would be best if she just lost herself in a drunken stupor, picking up brawls in the local taverns.

He fell in love with her more and more each day as he watched her piece herself back together. She regained her strength, her control, and her confidence.

He can only hope she'll do the same again.

* * *

Diamond only started sitting in the chair after Tilma the Haggard, Jorrvaskr's housekeeper came in yesterday and complained about the dirty sheets. She growled at the caretaker to go to hell. The sheets still had Kodlak's smell on it, and she didn't want it to go away. She needed it.

Her only compromise was to at least exit the bedroom and into the study. Fine. There were no windows down here, so she couldn't tell when the day was shifting. Some days pass in an hour, others a lifetime. She had only bathed once, and Aela stayed to make sure Diamond didn't drown herself.

Diamond runs a finger over the arm of Kodlak's chair. No, she didn't have the intention of ending her own life. Not before Kodlaks' funeral; that way she can get as close to a goodbye as she wanted.

But then what?

Who would be the new Harbinger? She had been so lost in sleep and grief that she had barely given it any thought. It had to be one of the members of the Circle. Not her. She's not ready by a long shot. Not when she's like this.

What is she to do? Without Kodlak, the existence of The Companions almost seems irrelevant. He was here when Diamond joined, and she hoped he would be here . . . well, until he passed, but peacefully; not through violence and bloodshed.

And there's still the matter of the Glenmoril Witches' heads. Vilkas put then in a trunk just outside on the porch. Someone had mentioned how the heads will rot, but Vilkas simply claimed that they were the heads of witches. They have to be burned to be destroyed. They'll be fine. But what can they use them for? Diamond doesn't want to keep then here. Not when they were part of the last instruction Kodlak had said to her. Not when they were the reason Kodlak died a werewolf and not a true man.

Suddenly being in his rooms, surrounded by his things becomes all too suffocating as she begins to realize more and more just how much she failed him.

Diamond stands from the chair. She takes the time to dress in a long-sleeved tunic and pants and walk out to the back porch of the hall. Torvar was there when she left Kodlak's chambers, and he simply followed along wordlessly. Diamond doesn't mind, and frankly doesn't care.

Out on the porch, seated on a wooden chair, Diamond stares out into the courtyard. She had trained so much here with Kodlak, sometimes for hours on end. She would train until her hands were bleeding with blisters or until she collapsed to the ground whining about how she needs food and water or else she'll die. But it was all through him that she had made it. It was through Kodlak that she got her life together again. What is she to do without him?

For the rest of the day, Diamond just sits there, hugging her knees to her chest and staring out into the open. Torvar goes inside at some point, and he doesn't come back out. She doesn't care. She stays out there long enough until the sun has set, the sky darkens, and the moon peaks its head up over the horizon.

With summer nearly here, she could sit here forever. There is no cold to drive her inside.

But she has to go in sometime, because Kodlak's bed is there, and she wants to make sure that Tilma doesn't take advantage and wash the sheets.

Just as Diamond is about to release her legs, she hears a creak.

The deafening silence that has been cloaking her since Kodlak's death, peels back slightly for the sound to reach her ears. She stays still as a rabbit, and it happens again. Thankfully she has a dagger strapped to her waist, but her hand doesn't go for it. She really doesn't care at this point. But like before when Kodlak saved her from a pack of wild wolves, some innate part of her still wants to live. To fight.

The sound happens for a third time, but it is a thump with heavy weight. A person, on the roof of the hall. Her heart jarring in her chest, Diamond takes calming breaths and stands from the chair. She takes the three steps down to the courtyard, rotating herself in a circle to check the perimeter.

The fourth time the sound happens, Diamond knew exactly where it was. It was in the guard tower overlooking the plains of Whiterun. And then she clearly sees a shadow slither into the darkness. Either they want to be seen, or they're very, very, _very_ poor at what they do.

Diamond approaches, keeping her knees bent and her hand close to her dagger. Then she hears the shift in the wind, a whistle and her hand comes up in time to block a dagger headed for her temple. She catches the blade between her pointer and middle finger.

"Not bad." A voice whispers from the shadows. It was deep and hoarse like gravel, yet strangely seductive. A male.

"And what if I'd missed?" Diamond dares ask, hoping to draw the perpetrator out of hiding.

"Then it would've hurt."

Diamond lets her hand fall to her side, rolling her eyes. "Look, if you're here for conversation, then you're better off talking to a tree."

"Probably. Someone with a bubble brain like yours probably couldn't carry on a decent conversation anyway." A dark form rises from the shadows, darkness rippling off his shoulders.

Anger floods Diamond's veins, shattering the silence of her grief and peeling it back enough that she feels like the girl she was before.

Until she thinks . . . that response, why did it sound so familiar?

"You've gone quiet." The man speaks again, his silhouette stepping closer to her. Diamond doesn't budge, frozen in thought. "Has the hamster fallen off of that rusty wheel in your head?"

_No_. _There's – there's no way_ . . .

"Don't tell me you've forgotten me already."

The world tilts and spine and shatters and comes back together all at once. She feels her knees wobble and her chest compress.

The perpetrator steps out of the shadows. The darkness rippling off him like tendrils of smoke, not wanting him to leave. His form is tall, muscular, covered from the neck down in purple wrappings.

Diamond would've dropped to her knees in fear, had it not been for the familiarity of the form of the body. Her hands start to shake and then she takes her first step back in disbelief.

The silence is gone. In its absence, she can feel the twisting hollowness of her stomach from lack of food, and the hole in her heart where Kodlak used to be. But she can also feel her heart pounding, out of excitement, and with, hope.

A muscular arm comes out of the purple cloak enveloping his broad shoulders and reaches for the hood covering his head, casting his face in shadows. Still, she can see a chiseled jaw and soft, smooth lips.

The purple-wrapped hand grabs the hood and tentatively pulls back, revealing gorgeous blond hair, glimmer like the gold of the sunshine. It was such a contrast that she could see little black earrings in his lobes, and scars. Scars that pepper across his neck before disappearing into the wrappings of his neck.

A sound – something between a sob, a laugh and a hiccup – escapes her throat. She could actually feel her throat bob and tighten as she covers her mouth.

Those perfect lips smile. And suddenly she can remembers _exactly_ how they felt pressed against hers.

Deep, passionate sapphire eyes stare at her; his hair haloed beautifully by the moonlight.

"Hello Diamond." Malick softly says. "I've missed you."


	48. Chapter 47

Diamond couldn't control herself.

She couldn't control her tears as they fall onto her cheeks; she couldn't control her lips as they quivered in disbelief; she couldn't control her voice as it vocalized her sobs; she couldn't control her legs as she launched herself into Malick's strong torso, his body feelings like an impenetrable wall. Her arms twined around his strong column of a neck and she nearly collapses when his arms wraps around her.

He holds her close, burying his face into the nape of her neck, taking in her scent. She can feel him hug her to tight, so close that the tips of her toes are off the ground. She can feel the power beneath his muscles; the strength, the lethality.

And his smell . . . by the Divines he still smelled like – like Malick. She half expected him to smell like ash and smoke from –

Diamond closes her eyes tight. No, she will not think about that. He is here. He is alive.

Malick is alive. And in her arms.

More sobs escape her lips, and she burrows deeper into Malick, hoping she can find a safe spot somewhere inside him, and she can abandon this cruel, cold world that has taken so much from her.

He's here. She hasn't lost everything.

"Diamond." She hears him whisper. Gods, just the sound of hearing her name on his lips gives goosebumps along her limbs.

She pulls back and looks up, finding those sapphire eyes. Immediately she could tell the differences in his face: he had a scar on his upper lip, another on his temple, and another one going all the way to the back of his neck. Everything else disappears under those wrappings.

Malick leans in close, his breath tickling her lips. Her heart jars in her chest and she gently sets a hand on his, feeling a strong heart pulse beneath her palm. "Malick," she whimpers. "I'm sorry, I can't."

She looks to him and his eyes are calm, his face placid, not asking for answers.

Diamond sighs into her hands, more sobs tightening her throat. "I'm sorry, it's just, a lot has happened, and this is so mindboggling that I can't believe –" She really should stop talking. Her tears are everywhere and she's babbling, but everything seems to be colliding at once and it's tangling in her head like yarn.

A warm palm cups her cheek. She looks up, well aware of her congested nose and red-rimmed eyes. "I understand." Malick says, and she doesn't stop him when there's a gentle kiss on her forehead.

She can feel herself transporting back to the days she was held prisoner in the Faceless Headquarters. He petted her head just like this before he went on a mission. She was worried about him, but he came back.

He came back.

Diamond holds his hand with her own and nuzzles into it. She looks to him and watches him smile. "Gods, your face is so ugly when you cry."

Even with the anger that flurries in her like fire, a smile breaks across her lips and Diamond tips her head back and cackles so loudly that the vermin scatter in fear. "You're so mean!" she screams.

Malick uses his hand to cover her mouth, but Diamond is still laughing as she attempts to pry it off. "Keep quiet." Malick says, smiling himself. "You'll attract the guards."

Removing his hand, Diamond lets herself laugh. Willing to hold onto this feeling – the remembrance of what it was like to be happy, and to feel like the girl she once knew. Malick steps back as Diamond wipes her tears and pulls out a tissue from the pocket of her pants.

"Don't look at me."

"I'm looking right at you, I don't even care."

"No!" Diamond whines with a giggle as she scurries off into corner to blow her nose. As she's wiping, the doors to Jorrvaskr open, and Diamond flinches as she sees Ria poke her head out. She scans the perimeter until she finds Diamond still wiping her nose.

"Oh, Diamond was that you I heard?" she asks.

"What?" Diamond says as she turns her head away. She keep wiping her nose and finally discards it into the wastebasket they keep on the back porch. She sniffs and approaches Ria.

"Oh, my gods," she with a breathless giggle. A hand on her heart in astonishment. "You're talking. I–I'm sorry. I just thought I heard something."

Diamond looks around and finds no sign of Malick. She almost wants to giggle at how good he is.

"Are you okay? Do you want to come inside?" Ria asks, reaching out a hand to escort Diamond inside.

"No, no. Um, I'll be inside in a moment."

Ria nods her head, not asking questions. She slips back inside and shuts the door quietly. She's probably so overjoyed that Diamond is talking again, let alone she was the first (or technically second) person she spoke to. Diamond makes sure that the door is secure and that no one is standing by it before looking around.

"Malick?" she whispers.

Half a second later he drops heavily down behind her. Diamond gasps and takes a couple shy steps back. She sets her hand on her chest and sighs in relief. "I forgot how good you were."

Malick doesn't say anything to her, merely tilting his head to the side.

Self-conscious, Diamond holds her arms around herself and steps back. "What?"

"You look different." He states, as if it's an obvious fact. His eyes immediately shift into something calculating.

Diamond fingers her hair. Last time Malick saw her, she had longer hair, and she probably wasn't as muscular as she is now. Still, she keeps her face neutral as she says, "Obviously."

"No." he says, taking one step closer, but only one. "Your face. That look in your eyes. The way you stand . . ." Diamond couldn't help trying to adjust everything Malick says, looking at her feet, and rubbing her eyes. "What happened?"

Diamond sighs. "A lot."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Diamond looks to him and sniffs. She wipes her nose with the back of her wrist. "Not until you tell me what happened to you first."

Malick shrugs, unbothered. She probably shouldn't pry; if he's still alive, that means Zusa only did bad, bad things to him. It would've been better if she had killed him, but no. By now, Diamond knows who Zusa is, and she's not one to give a swift punishment for such level of betrayal and mutiny. And considering Malick was one of two precious things Diamond held in that manor, she knew what it would do to Diamond if she ever harmed Malick. She disposed to Veera too quickly, but Malick . . .

Diamond suddenly takes a cautious step back. Malick looks to her, eyes narrows. "What?"

"Did Zusa send you?"

She watches Malick stiffen, and he sighs through his nose. "Something bad must've happened to make you not even trust me."

"Well it could have to do with the fact that Zusa knew how much I – how much I cared about you, so she wouldn't kill you so quickly, not after everything I did; everything you did. Now, she would not let me live in peace, _ever_." Diamond suddenly begins to pace, unable to keep her feet still. "No, she would let me live in agony and torture at the thought of keeping you alive and prisoner, and just out of my reach. And then of course she would send you to me when I'm at my weakest just to that you could –!"

Diamond was so busy ranting about Zusa that she didn't even notice Malick walk towards her. He takes her face in his hands, and kisses her.

Taken aback, and her heart thundering in her chest, Diamond's words are cut off, but feels a sweet, warm sensation prickle through her. She feels Malick's cloak envelope them both, comfortingly warm and smelling of him. His lips are so soft, and so smooth. Yet they are rough and enticing against her own. She can't help herself.

Her arms come up and wrap themselves around his strong, solid torso. Their lips envelope one another, and when she feels his tongue break past her lips, Diamond is surprised her knees didn't collapse from under her.

She should step back, she should push him off. But after losing everything and everyone she has ever known, after feeling her life break apart right before her eyes, seeing Malick and feeling him here, tasting him on her tongue, it is the diamond in the pile of ash and rubble. Just as she's about to shove him against the wall, Malick pulls back, the tip of his tongue tracing along her bottom lip. Then sealing it with another kiss.

"You're too paranoid." He says.

Diamond smacks his side and he grunts. Her heart stops even though Malick tries to laugh it off. She tries to play along. "What, no comment on how I'm too smart for my own good? Or how I'm getting better at being observant and perceiving?"

"No." he says bluntly, but giving that sexy grin that he used to use to piss her off.

"Seriously Malick." She says, entwining her fingers to hold his hips. "Why are you here?"

His hands casually rest on her hips, his thumb tracing her right side. "Well, if it makes you feel better, I'm not here on Zusa's orders. I'm here, because, because I know about Kodlak."

Diamond swallows, which is suddenly very hard to do. "Wait, what – how did you know? I mean I know how you know, but how did you know it would affect me?"

Malick steps back from her, his cloak slipping off her and leaving her chilled despite the summer air. "I've been keeping watch on you."

"What?"

"I know what happened to you. Or to the Brotherhood." Malick says as he runs his fingers through his hair. "After I had been taken back to the Keep, they threw me in the dungeons; of course after Zusa beat me into unconsciousness. Then while the guards were attending to me to make sure I was still alive, I overheard them talking about you. I had to know for myself that you were okay, and they weren't just saying things to keep me hopeful."

Malick goes over and sits down on one of the wooden chairs, folding his hands in his lap and leaning forward, elbows to his knees.

"I spent the last three to four years earning back Zusa's trust. Enough that she would let me go alone on my missions without supervisions. And then when I found out what happened to the Brotherhood, I tried to find you, to make sure you were okay. I had heard about the Emperor's ship and that they found him dead, and I thought . . ." Malick shakes his head. "After that, I spent my time trying to find you . . . and I did."

Diamond tries to keep her face neutral, but she shifts her feet. "You mean, did you see . . .?"

Malick tilts his head. "See what?"

"Never mind."

"No tell me." He insists.

"It's not that important. Just tell me when you found me here." Diamond says, motioning her hand for him to keep going.

"Well, it was a while back, and I still had supervisions keeping an eye on me, but we were in Whiterun for a kill, and we were walking around the Cloud District in disguise. And when we passed the backyard, I saw you. You were training with some warrior in wolf armor, and who clearly forgot how to play with water."

Vilkas. For some reason, Diamond is excited. To think that Malick and Vilkas were in the same, space, both watching her, unaware of the other's existence. Diamond isn't surprised she didn't notice Malick back then. At the time from what he's talking about, she thought he was dead, and was so focused on getting into The Circle that nothing else mattered but to train.

Malick shakes his head and smiles, running the tip of his tongue across the front of his teeth. He chuckles. "You just, you looked so different. Even then. You had cut your hair, which isn't bad, the pink wasn't your color anyway." He chuckles when Diamond gives him a vulgar gesture of her finger. "But, seeing you there, seeing how you've moved on and made yourself anew – it was beautiful and disheartening. Because I thought that meant you had moved on from me as well."

Oh how wrong he is.

If only he knew of half of the time she had spent waking from night terrors of losing him and being captured by Zusa; if only he knew of the tears that she shed for him, of the pain and agony that wracks her soul whenever she thought of him and how she had failed him.

If only he knew of how much she loved him, and how much she still felt the echoes of his life and held it close to her heart. How it was the only thing that has somehow kept her alive and sane at this point.

He could know, but Diamond is still to shocked and not really in the right headset due to Kodlak's murder.

"And then when I heard about Kodlak and the Silver Hand, I just had to come." Malick finishes.

"You snuck out? What about Zusa?"

"Either she trusts me at this point or she doesn't. Either way, when she finds out, it'll be worth it." He says as he rises from the chair.

"You shouldn't put yourself in such risk, Malick. Not after everything you did just to earn back your freedom." Diamond protests.

"I would do _anything_ if it meant I could see you again. If Zusa damns me to Sithis then so be it." Malick growls. "I'd rather die tomorrow than to go the rest of my life without seeing your face again."

Diamond takes a step back, but she also just wants to be cocooned in his arms for the rest of her life. It's almost as if the gods are either teasing her, or finally giving her something like hope after her years of enduring such horror and suffering. Perhaps they are finally giving her a means to keep living in this life.

She's about to say something, when there's a scuffle of noise coming from inside. Ria probably went parading around the hall on how Diamond is talking again, and how she was the first person Diamond spoke to after days of seclusion in Kodalk's bed chambers.

"I'd better go." Malick says, about to turn away.

"Wait!" Diamond stops him with a hand grabbing his wrist. "You never told me what happened to you."

Malick faces her. "It's not something you want to hear."

"I do."

"Diamond –"

"I do!" she pulls herself closer to him, her hand wrapping around his forearm. Gods, he feels more solid than when she last saw him. Felt him. "I want to know. I can't explain why, but I want to know."

Malick looks around, licking those perfect lips. "I guess that's all the more reason I should come back."

"We can't talk more here?"

Another sound coming from inside, followed by a small bit of argument. Diamond could've sworn she recognized Vilkas' voice.

"Not tonight. But now I can look forward to tomorrow."

"Which raises the question of how you even got here." Diamond says as she looks around, expecting to see a horse parked somewhere.

"I have my ways." He says with that grin. "I'll see you tomorrow. And we will talk."

"Promise?"

Malick smiles and takes Diamond's chin. He kisses her forehead and whispers, "I promise."

His breath tickles down her ears and she whimpers with pleasure when his lips touch hers again. She holds his hand with her own and kisses the palm – despite the wrappings blocking her way to his skin, she is grateful to feel him again.

His thumb traces her cheek before he steps back. "I'll see you tomorrow."

With that, he turns and bursts into a sprint. With one powerful push off of his feet, he's on the roof the Jorrvaskr and another leap leaves him out of sight. Diamond watches, his form so graceful and powerful. He's definitely gotten better at his agility, his skills honed to a razor sharp point.

The door opens again and Diamond turns to find Vilkas, his cerulean eyes gleaming and his mouth slightly agape as if in awe. Diamond's chest hurts as he approaches, still dressed in a fine tunic and pants. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Diamond responds.

Vilkas gives a breath of a chuckle. "Wow. I, I was so worried. The hall has been too quiet without you."

"I just wanted some fresh air."

"Of course. Anything you want." Vilkas says. "But it is getting late, and I was going to try and see if I could cope you inside."

"Yeah. Yes, thank you." Diamond says.

Vilkas ushers her forward and Diamond nods. As they start walking, Diamond stiffens when she feels Vilkas warp his arm around her waist, and his face presses into the side of her head. A kiss of some kind. Diamond had to restrain herself from shoving him off so he won't rid her body of Malick's scent. But she carefully wriggles herself, and his face retreats, thinking that she is still too buried in grief to become so close.

But it's as if her grief has subsided into a kernel of sorrow, not the massive silence that blanketed her for the past three to four days. No, that deafening silence that made the world go mute is gone. Left with it is this kernel, this last piece of grief that is meant to be buried with Kodlak.

She could possibly get through this.

But what about Vilkas . . .

He leads her down to the living quarters, mentioning something about how he delivered some food to Kodlak's quarters. He doesn't remove his arm, his hand making her hip so hot he almost wants to flinch.

What is she to do?

She thought she loved him, she thought that she wanted something from him. She even believed she had come close to giving him something like her love, she thought it was love.

But love was seeing Malick. The way her heart pounded. The way she _craved_ feeling his lips again, feeling his body, his strength and his power. She even missed his teasing, calling her ugly and telling her how stupid she is. She actually missed that! To see him alive again, to see something of her old life had survived, it might've reawakened that long lost girl she so desperately wanted to be again.

Diamond feels a pressure on her chest as the realization sets upon her. She only gravitated towards Vilkas because of his teasing, because of his attitude and impulsiveness that reminded her so much of Malick. She tried to see some remembrance of Malick inside of Vilkas, and that's not fair to either of them. In her heart she always knew it had to be Malick, she just denied herself that thought because she thought he was dead.

Now that he's back, it's like everything Diamond thought she had for Vilkas is gone. It was wishful thinking masked by mourning. She thought she could love Vilkas, hide from her grief for Malick by finding someone new.

But now . . .

They make it to Kodlak's old quarters, the place somehow feeling . . .full again. Whole again; as if she can just feel Kodlak's presence just sitting at the chair of the desk while Diamond retires to his bedroom. She steps into the bedroom, seeing the tray of food set on the table at the foot of the bed.

As Diamond makes her way over to the wardrobe to change, uncaring of Vilkas' presence, she finds his eyes never leaving her. More out of urgency than just to watch her and make sure she is okay.

Diamond sets up the pink, silk nightgown, readying to take off her tunic until she turns to him. "What's wrong?" she asks.

He couldn't have seen or heard her and Malick outside. Malick is too good to be caught by Vilkas. If she had to place her money, Malick would run laps around Vilkas. Especially with the calculated examination he made on Diamond, knowing something was wrong – and that it branched past Kodlak's death.

With his hands in his pockets, Vilkas pushes off the threshold and steps into the bedroom. Diamond takes a step back. "While I know you probably don't care to hear it, but . . . Libby was escorted out of the city today."

A small pinch on her chest and a small chill snaking up her spine. Diamond was so useless drowning in her own grief that she had forgotten about Libby being escorted to Morthal for her trial.

Sadness. That's the first emotion she feels, which is ridiculous, because in order for there to be sadness, she would have to care about Libitania in the first place. And while she had little regret for her impulsive decision to throw Libitania into the dungeons, she is still broken by what had transpired with her and Kodlak and the Prince of Morthal.

If Libby hadn't backed out of the contract, the Prince wouldn't have sent the Silver Hand after Kodlak. Even if she stayed, if when she gave them a warning about the Prince's attack, Diamond still can't bring herself to believe that this isn't Libby's fault. There's just something missing in this whole thing that Diamond is not seeing. It's like it's right there in front of her, but it's curtained behind gossamer veils; a silhouette that she can't decipher.

Diamond sits down on the bed, the nightshirt halfway up her arms, ready to be tossed over her head. Still, she wishes she could've _seen_ Libby one last time. she doesn't know what she would've said to her, probably nothing. There's nothing left to say. But still she wanted to see Libby one last time. To look at the girl who had once been her friend, but became the woman who had destroyed her life.

To look at her and admit that she is now a complete stranger, and she will have nothing to do with her anymore.

A warm hand on her shoulder and Diamond looks up to find Vilkas. "I'm sorry. I just thought you wanted to know."

Diamond gives a slow nod of her head. "Thank you."

Simple and clean. A show of appreciation for his thought, and also a signal to leave. She needed to be alone. She needed to think.

Vilkas nods, a little hurt feathering the muscles of his face. Diamond takes a careful look at him, at his scarred face and his chiseled jaw. Looking to find _something_ that would make her believe in herself that she wasn't just using Vilkas to replace Malick.

But alas, as she stares at Vilkas, admitting he is rather handsome, there is still no meaning in his handsomeness. No sign of the beautiful man who had comforted her, confronted her and caudled her.

She will be forever grateful for his presence in her times of need. But she knew that no one can stray her heart from Malick.

Without warning, Vilkas leans in for a sentimental kiss, but Diamond tips her head down so that is ends up kissing her hair. She doesn't even want him to kiss the same spot as Malick, in not wanting him to erase that feeling of Malick's lips on her skin.

Thankfully when he steps back, he takes is as a sign of her still being in mourning of Kodlak and not wanting anything to get intimate yet. He gives her a stiff nod, probably mentally bashing himself, but Diamond doesn't stop him as he walks out of the room.

Changing into her silk nightgown, Diamond crawls between the sheets of Kodlak's bed. Yes, the sheets are fresh, but Diamond doesn't mind. There's still a hint of Kodlak's scent left. And it's almost like a fresh start for herself. After they bury Kodlak and elect a new Harbinger, she will be able to put herself back together.

As tiring as it is, she has to do it. She has to – now that the gods have given a new means of hope in the shape of gloriously beautiful man who has come to her rescue.

When she closes her eyes and snuggles her head into the pillow, Diamond gives a small smile as she sees stunning sapphire eyes looking at her from the darkness.

* * *

She has been in the wagon for two days now, and has already vomited once.

Her only indication of where she is being the weather conditions. Morthal is by a swamp, or is a swampland of its own kind, so the weather is always colder. Even with the summer sun, there's still the perpetual winter chill that wafts into the wagon.

The assassin hasn't moved from her spot since she heard the gates of Whiterun close behind her, forever sealing her fate. Her muscles are stiff as the wooden floorboards beneath her, and given she's been like this for so long, the assassin thinks she's now forever frozen like this. The guards will have to haul her out like this, locked with her arms around her legs.

She should move, crawl to the other corner of the wagon and back. Something just to get herself moving. But the motivation to do anything is gone. The guards offer her no protection from the cold; they offered her nothing except for rags and footwraps. They took away her Nightingale uniform. She didn't mind, and she didn't fight.

That uniform belonged to a girl more deserving than her. It belonged to an assassin who knew no fear or regret. Who could walk the streets of Skyrim with her head held high and pride beaming on her face.

It belongs to Libitania Desidenius, the assassin whose name Skyrim whispers in fear, not someone girl who is so broken and battered and worthless.

_You are worthless_. _You are worthless and evil_!

Burying her head in her arms, the wagon hits a rut, jostling hard enough she hops off the ground by an inch and slides down to her side. Finally, she unwinds her limbs, all complaining and aching from misuse. She stretches her legs out until they reach the opposite wall of the wagon. She curls and uncurls her fingers, and tucks her arm under her head. Her chains rattle slightly, and she can see the tray of now spilt food the guards gave her when they left Whiterun.

Her stomach feels as though it has shrunk to the size of a walnut, results of her not bothering to eat or drink. The guards are doing poorly on watching her, surely they will be chastised for letting her die before even making it to her trial. Or perhaps they don't care, like she doesn't.

Light pokes through the bars of the barred window on the door, little specks of dust dancing in and out. She can see bits of blue sky, shaded clouds and the occasional branches of trees. She can hear chirps of birds and the sounds of the horses' hooves clopping against dirt and stone. It will all be over soon. She will leave this cruel world and join her beloved parents, or perhaps Sithis, whoever wishes to claim her worthless soul.

Turning on the rotten pile of hay, the assassin now faces the wall, not wanting to be teased by seeing the world she could never enjoy. Her eyes flick down to the shackles enveloping her wrists, and she can see both fresh and dried blood from blisters and scabs. A stinging pain on her ankles indicates the same expectation. She didn't tell the guards about those either; hoping they would become infected by the time they reach Morthal.

As the air suddenly becomes thick with the smell of salt, the assassin resumes her role of a statue, not moving from her spot. Time passes by, she could tell by the way the shadows dance across the walls of the wagon. It is early evening when she feels the carriage stop. She doesn't move. It's probably an early dinner, or perhaps a rest stop before they continue on.

The guards would open the door and holler at her to get out if she wanted any food or to stretch her legs or to empty the bucket she used to relieve herself. But as always, she never moved. Either she stayed huddled into herself, or one look of her eyes made the guards hurry to shut the doors.

She lies there on her side, facing the wall, ready to hear the clicking and tinking of locks, and to hear the guards grumbling and rumbling and prepping themselves to be bravado when they face her. But what she wasn't ready for was to hear the sounds of excited and nervous whispers, and rushing of feet on dirt and dried grass.

In what feels like an eternity, the assassin feels something other than hollowness and darkness, curiosity. She actually wants to get up and see what it is that the guards are so excited about. But then she dismisses herself in thinking they probably found a large male deer for dinner, or perhaps a spriggan emerging from the bark of a tree. Either way, she doesn't move, well aware of how close her hair is to her puddle of vomit.

Then she hears the locks of the wagon door click with such urgency the assassin almost bothered to turn her head. Light floods into the wagon, so bright she closes her eyes and actually hisses like a vampire. She cringes slightly into herself, her back shivering from the cold breeze.

She waits for the sound of heavy boots on wood, but all she heard was a soft gasp of disbelief. In the back of her mind, she wonders who could possibly want to see a dirtied girl in a prison wagon? Even if she is Skyrim's Assassin.

Former assassin, she reminds herself. You're no longer fit to be Skyrim's Assassin.

Then something even more unexpected happens: she hears the sound of heels on the wood. The brush of fabric against the floorboards. Uneven breathing comes closer to her, rattled with suppressed sobs.

No . . .

A warm hand touches her shoulder, so warm it feels unnatural, and the assassin thinks she is being touched by those who will carry her into Oblivion.

"Libitania." Through the deafening silence, she hears the voice says, a female voice.

She doesn't move. There is no more Libitania Desidenius.

"Libitania." It repeats, urgently, rubbing her shoulder for a response.

The assassin angles her head only slightly. Almost ready to tell the mystery stranger to get out and to go to hell.

Until –

"Solantir."

And that breaks through the silence that has been consuming her since she was thrown into Dragonsreach dungeons – no, since she had lost her parents. In its absence, she can feel the barking pain echoing through her legs, and the ache of the injuries she had acquired when she ran into her burning home, and she can feel the hole where Farkas had once been.

Turning her head, well aware of her sunken eyes and sharp cheekbones, a new feeling envelopes the assassin when she beholds crystal blue eyes staring at her, watering with hurt and regret. The smell of desert sands infecting her nose. Her body crawls with goosebumps.

Nassari


	49. Chapter 48

"Libitania." The princess speaks. "Oh my gods."

The assassin barely gives a shake of her head. There is no Libitania anymore. She is gone. She is dead.

The princess's hand touches her shoulder and the assassin looks up to the beautiful princess. She – she came for her. But how? How did she find her?

The rebels?

Tears stream down the princess's beautiful face. She wipes them and sniffs. "Libitania, you must get up."

The assassin shakes her head. She swallows, her throat stinging from dryness. "There is no Libitania anymore." she whispers, tears falling from her own eyes. "She is dead."

The princess looks to her, puzzled, but then blinks. "Very well." She brushes strands of her matted hair out of her face. "Solantir, you must get up."

Solantir. The name Nassari had personally given her. The name to use when other names grew too heavy. She feels the familiarity of the name settle over her like a glittering veil. Could she really be a defender of the weak? Could she bear this name without guilt or fault?

"Solantir, please." The princess is suddenly begging. Nassari is shaking her shoulder, gently, and whimpering. Her ears turned back and down.

Gathering her strength as best she could, Libitania pushes herself to her hands and knees, but her arms quiver and she collapses to the wagon floor. Or at least she would have if not for Nassari's strong arms to hold her up. Has she truly become so weak?

"I need help!" the princess calls.

Libitania looks to the open door of the wagon and waits for a guard to come. But no one does.

Instead, she watches as a large, muscular, familiar silhouette block the light of the door as he comes in.

"Farkas." She whimpers.

He's . . . he's here too, with Nassari! Seeing his massive form makes her heart ache with gratitude, but the fact that he's here with Nassari, and the fact that he has the documents –

Libitania couldn't help it; she cowered. She cowered in fear as Farkas approaches, his weight almost making the wagon shift. His eyes flicker with slight hurt, but not from her cowering, but by what he sees.

Her wrists and ankles are bleeding, her hair is a tangled matt, her eyes are haunted and sunken in and she's shivering pathetically from the travel. Quickly his eyes shift into an intense anger that could rip the entire wagon apart, and the guards if he felt like it.

Tentatively, he approaches Libitania like a baby bird and kneels down. Nassari moves out of the way. Libitania almost wanted her to leave because the skirt of her stunning gown are getting dirtied with the filth of the wagon. Farkas looks at Libitania, and the assassin curls into the corner. She stares into those cerulean eyes and when she blinks, her own begin to water. Sobs soon tighten her throat and she turns into the corner, not wanting to look at him.

She really is worthless. She doesn't want him to see her like this. This isn't the girl he loved, this isn't what he deserves. Nevertheless, she feels Farkas take her chin and force her to face him. Libitania suppresses her sob and sniffs. She opens her eyes to Farkas, who has a look of such gentleness on his features. His large hand cups the side of her head and he leans in and kisses her forehead.

Another sob makes Libitania choke and she draws a shaking breath. She so badly wants to hug him, to cocoon herself in his arms, but the chains binding her to the floor of the wagon make it difficult, and painful.

Farkas looks to the chains, that anger returning. She watches as he turns towards the guards and shouts to them to give him her key. When they retort, he barks the order, the sound too loud in the tiny wagon and her, the guards and the princess jolt.

The guards scramble and return with the key. Farkas takes it without even a thank you, and goes back over to the assassin. He knees before her and gestures for her hands. Carefully, Libitania lifts her wrists and watches as Farkas unlocks the chains. She felt everything – the reverberations of the key turning in the lock of her irons, then again as they loosened and fell to the floor. Her ankles were next and she hisses this time as they come away with fresh blood.

"She needs a healer!" Farkas calls.

Nassari immediately steps back into the wagon, holding the skirts of her dress. Farkas holds up a hand to her.

"Here, let me get her out of here." He says. And Nassari nods, stepping out and down the three steps. Farkas looks to her, his face soft, but something seems to be haunting him. "Here, Libitania." He carefully takes his arm and wraps it around her shoulder. Following without a word, Libitania lifts her aching arms and wraps them around his neck. His other arm slips under her knees and easily he lifts her from the floor of the wagon.

The chains mutter with each of his steps and Libitania rests her head on his shoulder, the same way she did when he carried her to her rooms one night after falling asleep at her desk. They make it out, and the sunshine is still blinding even at twilight. They come down the steps and the guards step back to give them space.

Now outside, Libitania can see two horses that Farkas and Nassari probably rode on. What were they even doing here? How did they find her all the way out here?

Farkas sets her down on a blanket and Nassari immediately swoops in and examines her ankles and wrists. "Nothing too serious. There's no infection, but the skin has hardened due to blood clot."

Farkas gets up and turns to the guards, who are backing away like scared pups. As he speaks with them, Libitania watches Nassari as she takes out a healing potion as well as medicinal herbs. "This will help with the pain." She states, and she watches the princess crush berries of mistletoe and mix it into the potion. "Drink it."

Libitania obeys, and despite the taste, the immediate relief it brings makes her drink down the whole thing – as well as her lack of water. She watches as Nassari's hand glows a warming yellow and hovers them over her ankles and wrists. Slowly she feels the tickling sensation of her skin stitching itself back together.

"How did you find me?" Libitania asks, her voice still raw from lack of use and nutrition.

"Farkas came to me." Of course he did, she thinks. "He came to one of the camps near the hold, claiming he was looking for help on finding you. He assumed everyone knew you given the information you left him."

Libitania didn't miss the glare that Nassari gives her, but ignores it as Farkas returns with more water and a small piece of buttered bread. Despite her stomach growling, the thought of eating something makes her want to vomit again.

"He found me at the closest camp and told me everything that happened." Nassari continues. Farkas just stands there, with his own canteen of water, munching on an apple. "We tracked you from Whiterun and now here we are."

Libitania finishes gulping down the water and looks to Farkas. "You figured out the map." she says, her voice only slightly better.

"I had time to spare." He says without looking at her, only Nassari as she continues to work on Libitania's wrists. That gesture alone makes her heart pound with fear.

After a moment of silence, Libitania looks to the princess. "So what now?"

"Now, we get you your things back." Nassari says as she bandages Libitania's ankles, and then starts on her left wrist.

"What? Why?"

Nassari looks to her and says, "Because your job is not finished."

Despite the pain, Libitania yanks her wrist back. "Yes, it is." She protests.

"Libby –"

"No! No I am not Libitania anymore. I am not Libby, I am not Lilian, I am not Solantir. I am nothing anymore!"

The two stare at the assassin, surprised and shocked. They look to each other, and then to the assassin.

Libitania shakes her head. "I have nothing left to give. I have _nothing_ left." She says, her lip quivering. "Libitania Desidenius is dead. There is nothing left of her."

Farkas shifts on his feet, folding his arms. Nassari's shoulders slouch in sadness.

"I've been believing in something so distant as if I was human. And I've been denying this feeling of hopelessness in me." The assassin continues. "I am pathetic. I am worthless. I try to do good, to be happy, but Death will always be my gift, and my curse."

"Solantir, you can't give up. Not now." Nassari says.

"What else can I do?" Libitania whimpers. "I've lost everything." she looks to Farkas for a brief moment. Their eyes meet and she blinks. "My home is in ruins, my only friend in the world has forever damned me. My parents are dead, and I can't go back to the Guild. I have nothing left."

Her shoulders shudder as she sobs, and Nassari is immediately there, bringing Libitania into her warmth. "You can't give up yet." The princess whimpers, trying herself not to cry. "The game is not finished."

"But I am."

"No. Not yet." Nassari whispers.

Libitania looked to her and saw her with two duel swords on her back. _Her_ swords. An ebony black one, and – and her father's Nightingale sword. But – but how did she . . .?

Farkas comes up behind them, Libitania unaware he even left, and hold sin his hands a neatly folded pile of black clothing. Judging from the thickest one on top, it was a cloak, and belts and buckles spilt out from between the folds of the clothes.

"No," Libitania cowers. "I, I can't do this anymore. I can't be that girl."

"All we ask is for one more contract." Farkas says as he kneels and sets the clothing up for her.

Libitania looks to them and narrows her eyes. "_We_? Are you a part of it?"

Farkas shrugs. No answer.

Libitania looks to the princess. "Who's the contract for?" she asks.

Her heart sinks as the princess lifts her chin high and squares her shoulders. "Me."

* * *

Sitting in his upholstered chair, resting his cheek against his hand, the Prince of Morthal is bored to tears as Captain Nox of the Royal Guard reads off reports of yesterday. He's been sitting here off the left of his mother while the royal court of Morthal was in session. His eyes are growing heavy, himself, growing impatient.

He only came here because the trial of Libitania Desidenius is today. And he thought it was going to be their first order of business, but apparently his old prune hag of a mother decided to save it for last. She barely made eye contact with him other than when he entered into Highmoon Hall.

Trying not to slouch, he glances at his mother, her back straight and eyes set on the captain. By this time his mother borderlines looking like a hag with her wrinkles and cracking powder on her cheeks. Today she is swathed in yards of forest-green velvet and floating scarves and shawls of gold, her circlet crown gleaming in the light of the chandeliers.

"Joric, my dear. You're sulking." He gives his mother an annoyed sigh.

"Forgive me mother, but this is severely boring. I presumed we would be having the trial of Libitania as out first order of business."

"She will be arriving soon, Joric. Patience."

Rolling his eyes Joric peers around his mother and finds his sister sitting the same as her mother. Back straight, palms face down on the arms, the skirts of her violet dress puddling around her, and her crown draping with gossamer veils behind her head. He feels like an ornament, just sitting here until the real show begins when Libitania walks into the hall.

Within the hall are other Jarls of the other holds, excluding Ulfric Stormcloak, claiming he has better things to do than to decide the fate of a filthy gutter rat who knows how to wave a dagger. Flanking the thrones of the Morthal Royal Family are large rectangular tables, seated with the nobles and jarls, all dressed in glittering gowns and suits, their ringed fingers and crowned heads giving off signs of elegance and grace.

If it weren't for the wait of the assassin, most of the attention is on Princess Nassari Telivani of Elsweyr. She had arrived very much late while Nox was reading the reports. She arrived with a big, burly man bearing a dark cloak with a hood shadowing his face. Most likely a mercenary to protect her after the attempted assassination on her life.

She was rather stunning, even if for a Khajiit, and she held her chin high, hands folded in her lap. Her hair was braided with gold cuffs hugging in random places, held together in a ponytail down her back, a multitude of gold earrings piercing her ears. But she didn't wear an extravagant gown as expected, and that's what attracted the attention of the court. She wore close-fitting pants, a layered tunic studded with whorls of iron, and black knee-high boots. Silver vambraces cuffed her wrists, inscribed with the intricate swirls and designs. She spoke to no one.

He can't wait to see how the assassin looks. The trip from Morthal to Whiterun took two weeks, and she had to have been in the dungeons of Whiterun for three to four days already. She had to looks like shit. And he can't wait to see it; to looks into her eyes and to mentally damn her to Sithis for disregarding him. He wants to be the last one she looks to when she is executed, to be the last voice he hears when he gives the suggestion, or finalizes the vote.

Joric just paid off the assassin who killed Kodlak Whitemane today. Framing her for the murder was too easy. Smiling to himself, he licks his lips and sits up straighter. He had used the entirety of Libitania's payment to him to hire Zusa Phoenix to kill the Harbinger. With Skyrim's Assassin denying his deal, the only one better is the one who trained her. The Queen of the Faceless even had raised brows when Joric flashed her the trunks of gold he kept from Libitania. When he stated his deal, the Queen of the Underworld accepted and even gave a wicked smile that send a chill down his spine. What hellhole had she come from to find delight in such things?

She dispatched the Harbinger in a matter of minutes. He didn't plan on the attack of the Silver Hand, but it was the perfect distraction for when Zusa infiltrated Jorrvaskr and delivered the prince's message to the Harbinger.

Finally, Captain Nox concludes her report and bows to Jarl Idgrod Ravencrone. She steps aside and the steward, his father Aslfur steps forward and clears his throat. His hands behind his back, he spares Idgrod a terse nod. She returns it.

Now Joric is sitting up straight, stretching himself as his father brings forward a scroll. "And now, My Jarl, I present the final report of the day. Three days ago, Libitania Desidenius, better known as Skyrim's Assassin, was captured in Whiterun and charged for the murder of the Harbinger of The Companions Kodlak Whitemane. Due to the grief clouding the district, Jarl Balgruuf has decided to send her to Morthal, due to the account of Prince Joric making the claim of witnessing the murder."

Joric smiles, giving a stiff nod to impersonate a heavy heart for the Companion.

"Today, she has arrived." Aslfur continues, rerolling the scroll and setting his hands behind his back. Joric watches the jarls stiffen and breaths hitch, drinks are quickly put down to avoid choking and clear their throats. "And we bring her forth the council of Jarls to decide her fate."

"Bring her in." Jarl Idgrod Ravencrone commands, lifting her head.

"Mother," Idgrod the Younger's voice carries over the stiffened air, but her mother gently silences her with a raise of her ring-encrusted hand.

Joric leans forward intently, his heart beating as he watches the door at the back of the hall open up and first in steps a multitude of guards. Joric counted at least six guards stepping in first before the assassin strode between them.

To his surprise, her clothes were rather nice: an outfit of all black that does wonders for her figure. She wore a close-fitted jerkin with no tunic underneath, revealing her strong arm muscles as well as scars that pepper along with length. Then skin-tight pants, and black boots lined with buckles that envelope her calves. Her hair look like it hasn't been brushed in days, but he could tell she tried to tame it with her fingers.

The chains of her shackles clink and clunk as she walks. Joric wonders why they would have her look to extravagant when she is to be going to her trial, but then he realizes, seeing her dressed in her prime only solidifies how deadly she is. If she were in rags, the court would find it hard to believe she was an assassin. He found it hard to believe himself when he first traveled to Cidhna Mines to retrieve her.

Libitania Desidenius says nothing as she is lead to the front of the dais where the thrones sit. While she looked deadly and beautiful, her eyes . . . that look on her face. Cold. Empty. Fierce. Like she is a hollow shell of her former self.

She didn't look to anyone. Instead her gaze was kept to the floor, as if it was more important, more entertaining than being here in the room of people who would decide her fate. Joric grins deviously; perhaps she has already given up and has accepted her fate. Still, that won't stop him from shredding whatever semblance of calm she has left.

"Libitania Desidenius," Aslfur starts, already his voice sounding different. Cautious. Attentive. Scared. The assassin doesn't lift her head. "You are charged with the deaths of the following people . . ." And so the list begins. Despite a part of him wanting to skip this nonsense, even he found it astonishing to hear the long recitation of all the lives she had taken.

All of Skyrim knew of her handiwork. A majority of the list were that of nobles, wealthy merchants, even a few jarls here and there from each of the holds. Word always got around when another victim has fallen to Libitania Desidenius. And now, the very thing that has earned her the right to call herself Skyrim's Assasin will be what seals her doom.

When it ends with the Harbinger of Kodlak Whitemane, Aslfur says, "Do you deny any of these charges?"

She keeps her mouth shut. Guards in the room, including Nox, remained focused on her, weapons at the ready. Princess Nassari now watches her with intent eyes, almost fascinated. Joric only hopes she won't ruin the vote for her fate. There was a rumor that Libitania was the one who had saved her life during the assassination on her life. He's also bene keeping an eye on Jarl Elisif the Fair. He remembered them staying in Solitude while on their way to Whiterun; no doubt Elisif does too. That makes two possible votes against him.

"Girl," Jarl Igmund says a bit sharply. Oh he defiantly remembers her. "we will take your lack of response to mean you do not deny them. Do you understand?"

The assassin smiles, a wicked, wild thing. She adjusts the shackles as if they are lace gloves. A thin layer of panic settles over the room.

There is murmuring, more rustling papers, and a cough. Then, the assassin blinks and her eyes are on the prince. Dark and ravenous.

He swallows a bit, but makes himself smile. She could do no harm, obviously if she did, she would be dead before his mother could announce her sentence. But, like a behaved little girl, she stands there, not saying anything.

"Very well then." Jarl Idgrod Ravencrone says. "You, Libitania Desidenius, accept the charges that have been brought forward. However, I will object to the charge of the murder of Kodlak Whitemane."

Prince Joric's blood becomes ice as he stares at his mother. She doesn't look back. The jarls mumble and whisper, though none of them seem shocked by her decision.

"Through the payments of Princess Nassari, your charges have been dropped. There by, you are a free woman."

The prince looks to the princess, a little disturbed to find her already starting at him. damming hatred in her eyes.

"I second the vote to release Libitania." Jarl Elisif adds. "Apart from bail payment, she also saved the life of Princess Nassari. A task no one thought would be realistic."

"I dare to rebuttal. This woman has spilt more bloodthan this damned war." Jarl Igmund denies. "Nothing could ever justify for the loss of loved ones!"

"Overruled. Payment is payment." Jarl Idgrod Ravencrone denies.

"This if folly, Mother!" Prince Joric says as he slams his hands on the arms of his throne and whips from his seat. "She is a _murderer_! This is supposed to be her execution!"

"It is not her execution, my son." She looks to her son, and he sees a frightening cold glare in her silver eyes. "It is yours."

The words needed time to register, and in that time, the guards who had escorted Libitania into the room come up behind him and hold his arms.

"What?! Mother you can't be serious!" the prince screams.

"I am, my son." Jarl Idgrod Ravencrone rises from her throne and walks down the steps of the dais, still a safe distance from Libitania. "My jarls of Skyrim, my son Joric Ravencrone is charged with the murder of Kodlak Whitemane as well as framing Skyrim's Assassin and going behind my back and dipping into the fund of Morthal to fulfill his own personal agendas."

She begins to walk further towards Libitania, passing her. The assassin does nothing.

"He had first hired Libitania Desidenius to kill the Harbinger out of revenge for his denial of entering the Guild. At the time, Libitania was in the labor of Cidhna Mines and accepted the contract in hopes of regaining her freedom." Idgrod walks with her hands held behind her back, the skirts of her dress trailing behind. "Once she saw the darkness in my son's heart, she so wisely denied and withdrew. Now, for whom he hired after, we do not know. But that is also why she is here."

"You have no proof mother!" Prince Joric says as he thrashes against his guards. "Are you really going to take _her_ word over your own son?!"

Jarl Idgrod Ravencrone turns to him and frowns. "I have seen the future, son. My visions have shown me the darkness in your heart, and while I hate to deny it, I know now that there is no changing it."

"And we have a witness." Princess Nassari speaks up, and all heads turn to her, eyes wide. She turns her head to her massive bodyguard and he steps forward, pulling back his hood to reveal his dirtied face and brown hair.

Farkas.

"Farkas here has explained to us what he had witnessed the day Jorrvaskr was attacked. While you hadn't planned that, he claims that Libitania did not murder the Harbinger." Jarl Idgrod states. She sighs and turns to approach the prince. "And so, while my heart is heavy for you, I, Jarl Idgrod Ravencrone of Morthal, send you, Joric Ravencrone to death."

"_Mother_!"

She coldly turns away, towards the court. "Does anyone have any objections?"

Silence.

"Libitania will do your interrogation." She states. "We are adjourned."

"Mother you can't do this!" the prince screams with such anger and hatred.

"Oh but you are wrong, my son." She turns back to him. "For many years I have felt the darkness in your heart. I had only hoped it was just a phase."

Prince Joric watches as Princess Nassari rises up from her seat, a key in her hand. She walks over to Libitania and inserts it into the lock. The Jarls stiffen as the irons clang loudly to the floor, the assassin rubbing her wrists, her face trained into glorious boredom. She doesn't smile, which scared him even more. And then Nox walks up with two intimidating ebony swords in one hand, a belt of daggers in the other.

She hands Libitania the weapons, the assassin giving a ghost of a smile as she attaches the daggers to her waist, the swords at her back. She begins adjusting buckles here and there, still not caring to gaze at the court of jarls staring at her and at him in awe.

The guards shove the prince down to his knees, removing his crown from his head. His mother comes up to him.

"I care about my son. But you won't listen." His mother's eyes water. "The darkness's control over you is total. I see that now. Which is why I have to do this."

She closes her eyes, and sighs, turning away. The prince feels his anger boil, but his blood becomes ice. She walks past the assassin, the guards already starting to escort his sister and the jarls out of the chamber. The guards still hold him down as his mother walks past the assassin to follow his sister.

When she passes, Libitania finally says, "I hope you know I plan to him squirm."

The Jarl stops in her tracks to stare at the assassin, a chill running up her spine at the dark glee written all over wicked smile. She looks back to her son is still trying to resist the guards. She turns to the assassin and says, "Just wait until I am out of hearing range."

"I'll give him a fighting chance. Just for you." She replies, giving a cruel wink of her emerald eye.

Libitania watches as the Jarl exits, leaving only the guards, Nassari and Farkas. The guards are waiting for Farkas and Nassari to vacate and Libitania turns to them and gives a nod towards the door. Nassari approaches and sets a hand on Libitania's shoulder as she draws one of her two ebony swords. Libitania looks to her, a sliver of gentleness in her eyes.

Without word, the princess gracefully leaves the room, Farkas not far behind her after sparing Libitania a glance. Then the guards throw Prince Joric to the ground and leave the room.

The emptiness of the room becomes so palpable that Libitania feels it like the humidity of summer.

She looks to the prince and begins her approach. "Get up." She commands.

"Haughty, stupid bitch!" he calls. Step by step she approaches, walking with that insufferable swagger.

Libitania draws her sword, the blade whining. "If you want a fighting chance, get up."

The prince rises to his feet. He grins disturbingly. "I suppose this is better. I can do my own execution on you. And I will really, _really_ enjoy making you suffer."

She doesn't say anything. Only tossing the sword to Joric. It clatters to the floor, and the prince picks it up.

She continues to approach. The gold of her eyes a living flame, her eyes cold as stone.

The prince doesn't say anything as he rushes at her, swiping for her head with the blade.

She sidesteps, dodging him with maddening ease. The prince lunges again. But faster than he can follow, she ducks and slashes her sword across his shins.

He hits the ground before he feels the pain. The world flashes in a spasm of colors, and agony tears at him. He fists his hands and realizes his hand is empty. He attempts to scuttle away from her, the air about her suddenly suffocating him like smoke, but his legs are not responding. His arm strains to pull him to the door.

"Bitch." He hisses. "_Bitch_!" blood pours from his legs, no doubt bone has been sliced.

Libitania approaches, sheathing her sword and drawing an ebony dagger. Her shadow comes over him, and the next thing he knew, a blinding pain shoots up his leg an into his brain, a flash of white, black dots scattering across his eyes. His throat immediately grows raw from the ungodly scream that comes from his mouth. He hears the sickening sound of bone cracking. His ankles.

He swears at her through the pain, the filthiest words he can think of.

She chuckles, and faster than a striking asp, she has one of his arms against the wall the dagger glinting. Pain rips through his right wrist, then his left as it too, is slammed into the stone. The prince screams as he finds his arms pinned by two daggers.

His blood is pure red against the light of the fire of the chandeliers. He thrashes, curing her again and again. He will bleed to death unless he pulls his arms from the wall.

With otherworldly silence, she crouches before him and flits his chin with another dagger. Joric pants as she brings her face close to his. There is nothing in her eyes – nothing of this world. She is not of this world.

"You killed all of my servants. You destroyed my home." her voice is soft, sounding like gravel. "And worst of all, you messed with my friend."

He couldn't think as another scream rips his throat, and a dagger impales in his side. Warm blood pours from the wound.

"So I am going to enjoy this." She leans closer, twisting the dagger in his ribs. He can feel the bone poking from the inside of his skin. "Who did you hire?"

"Please." He already begins to beg, almost sobbing. "Please, I'm sorry."

The dagger is yanked out, his clothes and skin ripping, more blood trailing down his sides. She turns the dagger, pressing it to his neck.

"To kill Kodlak Whitemane."

"P-p-please. You don't have to do this."

And then, without even an intake of breath, Libitania buries another dagger he didn't realize she was holding into his thigh. So dep he feels the reverberations as it hits the stone beneath them. His scream shatters out of him, and he writhed, his wrists rising father on the blades.

"Who did you hire?" she asks again. Calm, so calm.

"Gold." Joric moans. "I'll give you gold."

She draws yet another dagger and shoves it into his other thigh, piercing again into the stone. Joric shrieks – shrieks to the Divines who do not save him. "Who hired you?"

"Zusa Phoenix!" he cries. "I hired Zusa Phoenix!"

After a heartbeat, she withdraws the daggers from his thighs. He almost soils himself at the pain, at the relief.

"Thank you." He weeps. she sits back on her heels and stares at him. "Thank you."

But then she brings up another dagger, its edge serrated and glinting. It whips at him in a flash of a silver streak and his throat burns, tears pouring over his eyes. His thumb drops to the ground beside him, a white piece of bone sticking out.

The prince watches as Libitania picks it up and examines it like it's a mere bug. The prince turns his head and vomits all over the floor. Libitania isn't fazed in the slightest as she tosses the thumb into the fire pit like a pebble to water.

She hovers the blade over his pointer finger next. The prince trembles as he shakes his head. "P-p-please."

Another flash of silver. Another scream rendering his throat raw. More blood now trailing down his arm. Slow and taunting. She tosses the finger into the fire again. She readies the blade once more.

"N-no. Please!" A warmth wet fills his pants.

Libitania's hand shoots out and grabs hold of his tongue. She brings the bloodied blade closer, until it rests against the base of his tongue.

The prince shakes his head, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Another flash of silver.


	50. Chapter 49

The darkness on the horizon has spread, devouring the stars, the trees, the light.

The black fire burns through thought and feeling until all that remains are her rage and her prey. Faster and faster, sprinting for that beautiful house, for the woman who had helped take her world apart, piece by piece, bone by shattered bone.

The blood from the prince is still stained on her blades as she leaps from tree to tree, barely disturbing the branch and the leaves. She had already given the head to the Jarl, and apologized to the guards for the mess they would have to clean up.

As she nears, the warm buttery glow of windows enters her view. And even from here she can see black shadows gliding from here to there.

At the edge of the trees, hardly five yards from the outer gate, she emerges. Their heads turn to her.

It's as if the entire world is gathered in a holding breath as they behold the woman or creature before them. She is clad in deepest black, her face young and speckled with blood – unearthly perfection. Around her head is a cowl connecting to a cloak that stretches into a long ribbon of black ink into the forest.

No one attacks, as if entranced. She comes through the early morning fog, no more than a sliver of darkness. She doesn't run – just walks.

One step at a time, she approaches; and the sword on her back whines as she draws it. It's a beautiful sword, sleeked in gleaming silver with a fair-sized sapphire gem gleaming at the center of its hilt. The twilight glints off the long blade.

Finally, one bold Faceless yells, "Halt!"

The dark figure does, her features still concealed beneath the hood of her cloak. Still, that doesn't stop her as her lips form into a grimly wicked smile.

The shadows retract, the woman's eyes are revealed . . . and . . . and . . .

"_Holy Gods_," a Faceless whimpers.

The woman's eyes are a stunning emerald with a core of gold as bright as the sun.

None of them had time to scream before she cut them like wheat grass.

Blood is everywhere and trails in her wake. If that Glenmoril Witch said she was bound to blood, then so be it. She leaves bloodied footprints as she enters through the front door.

She knows this house like the back of her hand. So she makes her way up the grand staircase, plush red carpet underneath her boots. Her senses are heightened beyond belief. Any attack she blocks and ends with a slash to where whatever her blade finds.

Someone tries to come up from behind. She whirls and ducks, her dagger from her boot instantly in her hand, and the Faceless goes down in a groan. Hot blood pumps into her hand.

She makes it to a hall of paintings, the rim of her cloak dripping and sticking to the carpet from its bloodstains. Silent as death she comes to the double oak doors leading to the study. The smell of crimson infects her nose, no doubt seeping through the crevice of the study.

She had to know she was coming. But she didn't know _what_ was coming.

Lifting her foot, she slams it into the door, shattering the locks. As they scatter along the floor, she sees the Mistress of the Faceless sitting at her desk, writing something on paper with a feather.

"Welcome home, beautiful." she greets with a cool voice.

She doesn't look up as she speaks, nor as the assassin approaches, drawing her sword.

"What? No friendly hello?"

Silence. On her neck, she can see the scar that draws across her neck. A memoire of her last rampage through the mansion, and how she got so close to killing her.

But this time it's different.

"I thought I taught you better."

Silence.

This time as Zusa Phoenix is about to speak, she looks up from her paperwork to the assassin.

The color drains from her beautiful face, and terror fills her stunning eyes.

* * *

Diamond awakens, feeling lighter than she has for the past . . . years of her life. Sitting up in the bed, she stretches and yawns. Looking in the mirror across the way on Kodlak's bookshelf, she surprises herself as she giggles at her reflection. Her hair is a mash of blonde and random strands, and she has a perfect white line of drool going all the way to the back of her neck. Wiping her mouth, she slides out of the covers and quietly pads down the hall.

Fixing her hair as best she can, she smiles as she reminds herself that she'll be seeing Malick again because he needs to tell what the hell happened between the time she left the Faceless and Zusa capturing him and holding him prisoner. A part of her doesn't want to know, but she does. She needs to know what she did to him.

Gently pushing her way through the doors of the living quarters, Diamond pads up the steps and is surprised to find most of the Companion members up for breakfast. It's only ten in the morning, much too early for the warriors of this guild. That of course, not counting Farkas, who seems to have disappeared. No one seems concerned much, assuming he doesn't want to be in the hall.

Still the moment she's in view, heads turn and smiles spread on lips. Diamond timidly returns them, taking her place at the table.

"Welcome Diamond." Ria says softly. "Did you sleep well?"

"Fine." Diamond answers as she sits down. She takes a large platter and begins to fill it with food. Now that the silence has been shattered after seeing Malick, when reality sank in, yes she could feel the hole in her heart where Kodlak used to be, but she also could feel her stomach shrinking from her lack of food and water. How long had she been buried in her grief?

"It's good to see you up and around again." Torvar says as she approaches with two goblets of water. Diamond thanks him, and takes a sip, surprised to find it flavored with lemon. "How are you doing sweetheart?"

"Better." She answers. Which is the truth. "Can I ask where Farkas went?"

"We don't know." Torvar says with a sigh. "Evidence points that he might've snuck out last night or sometime early this morning. Where he went we can't say."

"No one seems that concerned."

"He's a big boy. He'll find his way back, wherever it is he went." Diamond nods, taking a forkful of her grilled salmon. "I know you probably don't want to know, or maybe you've heard by now, but Libby was taken out of Whiterun."

Diamond looks to him, furrowing her brows. "When?"

"Two, at least three days ago. She was assigned to be transported to Morthal for her trial."

Diamond's heart sinks. "Do you think Farkas went after her?"

Torvar shrugs. "It wouldn't surprise me. It could be divided either way. The guards could stop him if he goes, or he could be off just dealing with his grief." Diamond doesn't speak, only chewing on her food. "How do you feel?"

"I don't know. I mean, I feel bad, but I don't."

"Diamond, she didn't kill Kodlak herself. You know that, she was with you."

"But if it weren't for her, Kodlak would still be alive." She growls.

"The Silver-Hand attacked Jorrvaskr. They killed Kodlak."

"Then why would the prince leave a note? Hm? He did this to get back at Libby."

"By that time, Libby had no connection to the prince. She paid him off professionally. The prince did this. He did this and him alone."

Diamond shakes her head, and she hears Torvar sigh.

"Look, I'm not trying to get you upset, not when you're just coming back to us. But you need to open your eyes and understand that there has been foul play here. There's something else missing, and you know it. Just don't doubt your instincts."

Torvar then gets up from the chair and goes towards the back doors to the porch. As she chomps on a sweetroll, her mouth flooding at the sweet taste, she can't help but think. There has something that's been buzzing in the back of her head, she was just so busy hiding from her grief that she didn't notice.

Something about the way Kodlak was killed, it was too – detailed. The Silver-Hand weren't ones on torture, only if they catch you as a wolf. While they knew of Kodlak's beastblood, there wasn't enough time for them to possibly inflict that much damage on him, not with Vilkas and Farkas and Njada inside.

It had to be done by a skilled hand. She didn't even want to think about the alternative. She can't face that. But the more she feeds the possibility, the more it makes sense –

"Diamond," Aela's voice chimes, breaking Diamond away from her thoughts. She turns to the Huntress and gives a quiet response. "Forgive my interruption, but you have a visitor."

_This early_?

Diamond finishes her salmon, gulps down some lemon water to attempt to freshen her breath and rises up from her seat. Trotting to the front door, she pulls it open and peaks outside. Her knees nearly buckle from under her when she beholds Malick standing at the base of the stairs.

He's out of his Faceless uniform, and with the sunlight brightening all of Whiterun, He's more stunning than ever. He's wearing a cerulean close-fitted tunic with a low neckline to reveal the end tendrils of his tattoos, grey pants, and knee-high black leather boots. It's so simple that Diamond has to do a second take. She has only seen Malick once in such casual attire, and even then he was handsome. But to see him blend in with other citizens, it makes him even more special due to the fact that the citizens of Whiterun as passing by a deadly killer. She dares to step out despite her matted hair and night clothes.

Malick smiles, and her heart flutters. She comes up the steps, his hands tucked in his pockets. "I'm assuming I'm early?"

Immediately Diamond's hand goes to her hair. She gives a nervous giggle, but a smile. "Well to be fair, I didn't expect you to be here this early."

"Early?" Malick giggles. "It's noon."

"What?" Diamond dares to step out despite how little her nightgown conceals. To her surprise, the sun is directly above, indicating the hour of noon. She already slept half of the day away. "I wasn't supposed to meet you at a certain time was I? Because you never clarified." She quickly defends.

"No, I kind of figured you'd be sleeping in anyway." He smiles. "If it makes you feel any better, I have to run to the market to get some things, and then I could come back."

"Yeah," Diamond smiles, tucking back a strand of her hair behind her ears. "Yeah, that'll be perfect." She peers inside as she hears a door open from downstairs. "I promise I'll be ready in –"

Her words are cut short as she feels Malick press his lips to hers. It was brief, but it still sent a lightning bolt through her body to where she almost dropped to the stone beneath her. He steps back, grinning, and purposely licking his top lip.

"I'll see you in an hour. And fix your hair; looks like you slept with a tumbleweed." He then turns and heads down the steps.

Diamond clamps her lips together, suppressing her retort, but she can't stop her smile as she watches him swagger down the steps and into the marketplace of the Cloud District. She inhales through her nose, her smile growing wider to the point where she's biting her lower lip. Easily, giddiness begins to overwhelm her to the point that she closes the door and quickly begins her retreat into the living quarters.

"Diamond is everything okay?" Aela asks.

"Yeah, yeah just fine. I just need to get ready." Diamond says with a bored wave of her hand.

"For what?"

"I'm going to meet a friend."

"What friend?"

Diamond stops and her chest hurts as her heart triples in speed at the sound of Vilkas' voice. She turns and finds him at the top of the stairs to the living quarters. He's in his wolf armor, a newly polished broadsword strapped to his back.

She was so busy thinking of getting ready that she didn't even notice him. She closes her mouth and quickly preps her words. "I'm going to meet an old friend. He just appeared in town."

"Oh," Vilkas says taking a step down. "Seems awfully convenient."

"What do you mean?" She challenges.

This time, Vilkas actually takes a step back. "Never mind. It's just, good to see you becoming okay."

Diamond stares at him for a heartbeat. "Thank you." She mumbles and heads inside the living quarters.

As she heads down the hall, she doesn't know if she should feel odd or angered with herself. Kodlak's death practically destroyed her, and now with Malick around, should she really be happy. She doesn't want it to appear that Kodlak's death had no effect on her, but the members all know that after the blur of days she spent in his bed.

No, she is allowed to be happy, at least for now. perhaps the gods have finally decided to bless her with something other than death. Turning to the left of Kodlak's chambers, Diamond makes it to her old room, which almost doesn't even feel like her own considering the time she spent in Kodlka's chambers, even before his death.

Stepping inside, the air smells of her favorite perfume and it's cleaner than it's ever been when she would actually spend nights here. There are still clean, folded clothes on the trunk at the base of her bed, and we beginner weapons from when she was just starting to train hanging on the wall. Her desk is on the opposite wall of her bed, still scattered with old papers and feather pens from, weeks ago.

Her bed has been neatly made and set with a fresh set of sheets. Next to it is her wardrobe tucked into the corner and then her dresser with a small scattering of cosmetics mixed with daggers and pieces of an old armor set she wanted to build herself.

Going over to her wardrobe, she pulls open the doors and she is suddenly swamped with clothes of her scent. Set on hangers are lovely tunics, shirts, gowns and belts and scarves and hats. On the floor are boots, half of them casual, and the other half made to accompany a set of armor. She knew without looking that the shoes and dress that Libby had gotten her are tucked away in the trunk at the foot of the bed.

What is she to wear? Taking an arm and shoving aside half of the clothes, she finds a long line of tunics made of exquisite taste. Does she go for something fancy to look beautiful, or something casual to show she's not too flashy with her new role? Malick will pick on her either way, so she might as well dress in something that makes her feel pretty.

The only problem is, the majority of these tunics are ones that Libby had bought for her, years ago. Why she hadn't burned them long after, she doesn't know. Maybe because they are just too damn nice to serve to the flames. There would be no other tunics or shirts or shifts made like this. Libby always made sure Diamond had the finest luxuries; made sure she had some taste of what a high-end life felt like, even when the Guild was struggling. Diamond would always oppose because of the prices, but Libby didn't seem to care, so long as Diamond was happy. And it would be a lie if Diamond said she didn't like being spoiled.

Sliding one hanger aside after another, she inhales sharply when she finds a stunning rose-pink tunic with gold embroidery around the lapels and buttons glimmering in the light of the sconces. Digging around in the drawers of her dresser, she finds a pair of light grey pants and brown leather hunting boots. Going over to her vanity, she finds her hair comb and begins to brush. Thankfully for her, her hair settles itself into natural waves, even when she hasn't washed it in many days – which is one reason that makes her get up and go to the bathroom and fill a tub with water.

She scrubs herself pink and as she steps out, her skin tingling, she finds something clean to wear while she readies the rest of herself. She has an hour to ready herself, and frankly, she doesn't want to put on much makeup since Malick, assumingly, wants her to be natural.

So she goes back to her room and lotions her tingling legs and arms and face. Towel drying her hair, she lets the air finish it as she steps into her delicates. Sitting at her vanity, she turns her head left and right. Carefully, as she was taught by Ria, she takes the front half of her hair and begins to braid. As she makes her way towards her crown, she gathers the rest of her hair and sets it into a ponytail. Little wisps by her ears fall forward and Diamond smiles.

She pulls on her pink tunic, steps into her pants and laces up her boots. Habitually, she straps a belt of daggers to her waist, and exchanges her wallet into a small satchel. For some reason, as she sits down at her desk to give a small spritz of her perfume, her heart begins to pound.

_No_, she thinks. _This is not a date. He's just_ _taking out . . . somewhere._

She's not helping herself. Taking deep breaths, she adds her pocket watch with her, checking the time. With her shower devouring a majority of her time, she now has fifteen minutes left until Malick would come back.

What is she to do? Wait outside? Read, train, or preen herself while she waits? The Companions are bound to ask her why she is so dolled up, and a part of her chest hurts when she thinks that Kodalk got murdered only a handful of days ago. But she also reminds herself that she needs this. She needs to try and feel happy again. She needs to try and have this hole filled so she won't feel so hollow.

Diamond looks at herself in the mirror of her vanity. For a moment, she can see herself back when Libby bought her this tunic. They were in Solitude, Libby on a job, and Diamond had just tagged along because she wanted to see the city. They walked into the wealthier streets, and Diamond stopped dead in her tracks when she beheld the tunic in the display window. Libby didn't drag her away, only giggled when she found Diamond practically pressing her nose against the glass, staring at the tunic.

Libby somehow agreed to go in with her and when she tried on the tunic, Diamond felt like such royalty. When she was told price – back then, it was the closest thing Diamond came to heartbreak, at least until her years caught up to her. But Libby stepped up and paid for the tunic as if the price didn't matter. She didn't let Diamond argue about it, and only smiled.

Diamond hasn't been back that shop since. She hasn't even set foot in Solitude since she assassinated the bride Vittoria at her wedding.

Slouching back, Diamond huffs, now wanting to remove the tunic because of the memories it held. But it just looked to pretty! Inhaling deeply, Diamond checks her pocket watch again and only a minute has passed. Groaning, she gets up from her seat and dares to go out into the hall and up the steps into the main hall of Jorrvaskr.

Walking up the steps, she readies herself as the stares come to her at the sound of her entry. Eyes widen, eyebrows rise and Diamond tries to not notice, attempting to keep herself busy by fidgeting with her ponytail. Vilkas was seated at the table, still no word on Farkas, and the other members are either here or outside.

Diamond goes over to the front doors, opening them a little to get a feel for the weather outside. Winter has now submitted itself to the soon coming warmer months, so there's more sun, more melted patches of snow on the ground, and a hint of a chill on the wind. A simple jacket will do; at least she can finally put away her winter cloaks.

As the wind tickles loose strands of her hair, she turns to the front and finds Malick walking back up the steps to Jorrvaskr, a paper-wrapped package in his large hands. She tries to steady her breathing as she tries to calm herself at the thought of him buying her something.

Sliding back inside, she looks to the coatrack and finds her favorite leather jacket. Perfect for autumn hunts. She takes it throws it on around her shoulders and adjusts the collar and her satchel.

"Going somewhere Diamond?" Vilkas asks.

Diamond sighs, trying to remain casual. "I'm going to meet a friend."

"You seem dressed rather nicely for a friend."

"It's an old friend. Someone I haven't seen in a while." She tries to keep her face bored and her tone natural. She doesn't owe him anything; she has to remember that. She doesn't owe him any explanation.

"Diamond –"

Thankfully the door knocks and Diamond controls herself as she opens it and finds Malick standing at the end of the stairs.

She smiles and looks over her shoulder. "I'll be back soon. I promise."

"Diamond –!"

Despite the guilt in her chest, Diamond steps outside and closes the door behind her. Malick turns at the sound, and gives a soft smile. He grants Diamond the excitement of an eyebrow raise at her attire and says, "Well, that's much better. At least you don't look half as bad anymore."

Diamond grins as she comes to the end of the stairs. "If you're going to be an ass, I can just go back inside and back into bed."

"Mind if I join you?"

Malick then bursts into laughter as he beholds how red her face becomes. Scrambling and cursing him, she covers her face and begins to walk, anywhere. Malick catches up to her and grabs her shoulder. "I'm sorry, I'm just teasing."

"It's not funny." She retorts, failing to suppress her smile. She tugs her ponytail tighter and sighs. "So, where are we going, and what do you have there?" she points to the paper-wrapped package in his hand.

"This is just something for us to enjoy while we have our talk." He says. "Follow me, I know a place."

Diamond doesn't protest, though she nearly combusts when Malick takes her hand and starts to lead her towards his location. Her cheeks feel warm, and she can almost feel every detail of his hand. It's all completely rough, layered with callus from years of training as well as a few scars from – from whatever, whoever.

At least she knew where they were going; her job allowing to travel to even the darkest, most remote and undignified places in Whiterun. From the wealthy streets above, to the gutters beneath where lowlives and whores lived. But she was still taken by surprise when Malick led her to an apothecary shop.

She looks to him with raised brows and he says. "Just wait." He says, and he leads her into the warmly lit shop.

Diamond ignores her jealousy as the owners smile at Malick, beckoning them up the narrow stone staircase. She still doesn't say anything as they go up and up and up the stairs, past the second level, and the third, until they reach a door at the uppermost landing. It was small enough that Diamond's temple brushes against Malick's shoulder, and when he turns to her, one hand on the doorknob, she gives her a small smile. "Now I don't want you to blow this out of proportion, but . . ."

He opens the door, stepping inside so she could enter.

Wordlessly, she walks in.

The roof of the apothecary is enclosed in a glass greenhouse, filled with flowers and potted plants and fruit trees that have been hung with glittering lights. The whole place has been transformed into a garden out of an ancient legend. The air is clear and sweet, and by the windows overlooking the Gildergreen stands a thick blanket wide enough for two, decorated with multiple pillows with fancy tassels and embroidery.

Diamond can't help the large exhale of breath as she sets her hand on her chest. Her smile is wide from ear to ear, and her eyes water at the beauty. The owner closes the door behind them and Diamond turns in a circle, surveying the room. Malick has wandered over to the blanket and has made himself at home, sprawling himself across the length of the blanket, propped up on his elbows.

She almost doesn't want to approach him, because the need to touch him is so strong that she needs _something_ between them. He looks to her with a lazy smile, his sapphire eyes somehow brighter in the natural lighting. Trying to hide her quaking hands, Diamond goes and sits down on the blanket, reminding herself why they're here in the first place, and that it's not going to be a pleasant conversation for either of them.

"Y-you didn't have to do all of this." She begins, not knowing what else to say.

His only answer is a shrug of his shoulders and he looks back out through the balcony overlooking the Gildergreen, blocked off by white painted double doors. Diamond attempts to make herself more comfortable, crossing her legs beneath her and picking at nonexistent dirt under her nails.

"So what's in the package?" she asks.

Malick looks to her and sits up. He takes the package and pulls the string, revealing a near dozen sweet rolls sprinkled with cinnamon and drizzled with a thick cream syrup. Her eyes widen.

"I remembered it was your favorite."

_He . . . he remembered_?!

"I also remember how I could barely get any of them when you were in the room. You just devoured the whole thing."

Diamond couldn't help the cackle that comes from her as she tips her head back. She covers her mouth as Malick sets the paper down in between them. He takes on and holds it out to her. She can feel her cheeks blazing.

"Come on." He says deeply with a grin.

Diamond leans in, listening to her senses about it being a trap. The closer she gets, she opens her mouth and can smell the cinnamon on her tongue. But then, as she feels the tip of the sweet roll touch her tongue, Malick pulls it back and pops it into his own mouth.

Gaping at him, Diamond scoffs and doesn't hesitate to slap his arm. A small pain prickles her fingers, and Malick is still laughing so hard that she wonders if he barely felt it. "You asshole!"

"Oh come on, don't give me that look. It was just so perfectly timed." He takes another roll and breaks it in half, popping it into his mouth. He looks to her and gestures. "Help yourself. They are for you."

Taking the biggest one in the bunch, Diamond decides to throw her manners out the window and takes a hugs chomp off. Once the cinnamon hits her tongue, she immediately forgives him and moans with pleasure at the taste. This kind of deliciousness isn't made here in Whiterun.

"Are these from Solitude?" she asks.

"No, they're from here."

"No, no." she says through a mouthful. "Something this good isn't made here."

Malick chuckles. "Nice to know you have faith in your own Hold."

Finishing her roll, Diamond sucks on her fingers. "Alright, look, let's not beat around the bush." She wipes her fingers with a napkin and Malick rises up. "Malick, the last I ever heard from you was when you helped free me from Zusa. And then I remember hearing you scream, and I just kept running –" just that easily, tears filled her eyes.

A hand is suddenly caressing her cheek and she looks up to Malick with hurt and regret in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Diamond." She sniffles, shaking her head slightly. Malick's thumb brushes her skin for a moment before he drops his hand. "I almost wish you had stayed," he goes on with a cold chuckle. "It was quite the show."

Diamond looks up, holding another sweet roll.

"After you left, I held her off for as long as I could." Malick tilts his head back, gazing up past the glass windows, as if transporting himself all the way back to that night. "The bitch didn't think I was that good. she had more cuts on her than I did myself. I remember hearing the clang of our weapons, the gritting of metal as we matched strengths. And that scream you heard was when she jabbed a dagger into my side."

He pauses and his hand goes to his shift. Diamond takes careful, quiet breaths as he strips out of his tunic, to reveal thick jagged scars. And they are wide scars, and they're deep.

Diamond remembers how graceful his tattoo was, dominating most of his chest and the back of his shoulder blades, but that gracefulness is gone – interrupted by the hideous scars that start at the lines of his hips, and trailing up to his chest, just inches from his heart. Then there's one on his upper right shoulder, still deep. Healed burn marks resemble claws as they rake down his back and his front, and there are much smaller scars all around his abdomen, located near internal organs.

"Our fight ended in a standstill, we broke each other's weapons. And as I raised my dagger to end her, I got tackled from the side by Eloria. She pinned me down and knocked me out."

Diamond swallows hard.

"I woke up chained on a metal table, and I already knew where I was. You didn't know about this for a reason, but there's a chamber deep down under the mansion for "interrogations." I spent the last three weeks on that table, enduring hell for I don't know how long. Sometimes days would go on forever, other times I would just drift into a, trance I guess, and barely feel the pain. I remember she removed serval bones, broke nearly all my fingers, dug her knife in and around my vitals, and she nearly tore out my vocal chords; even after they were shot from my screaming." Malick angles his head to reveal a long risen scar that starts at the front of his neck and then trails all the way to the back, disappearing into his hairline. "I just remember constantly being coated in my own blood, hearing it drip onto the floor below. Smelling my blood and my own filth as she left me lying in it for days."

Diamond's hands are quaking, and she ends up dropping the sweet roll.

"She wanted to know where you went, and I kept telling her I didn't know. She didn't believe me. But I never told her. I never gave in. All I really did was be a smartass and spit in her face." Malick smiles coldly. "In retrospect, she never got anything but the truth. And she knew that, but she wanted to make me pay for my betrayal."

Diamond doesn't know what to say. How do you respond to something like that? She can never tell him it's okay; she can't really say she's sorry as he'll only say it wasn't her fault. What can she do? Nausea clenches her stomach at the thought of what Zusa had done to Malick.

"Malick," she says, her voice quaking. "If I had known, I would've –"

"You would've come back Diamond, I know. But after my betrayal, she wanted me to suffer for the rest of my life. And I nearly did."

Diamond looks at him, her eyes scanning every inch of his body now; wondering just how many of those ugly scars were caused by Zusa. "Based on what you say, how did they . . ." Diamond gestures to Malick, unable to finished the question.

"She had expert healers come in and piece me back together. I spent months in recovery learning how to walk, write and speak again."

"How long did you go through . . . that?" A tightness grips her throat.

A brief hum. "A year, close to two. I remember someone telling me happy birthday at least once." Malick's eyes grow distant. "I felt so, helpless, not being able to move my body when I wanted to. It was probably worse than the torture; just the fact that you can't control yourself, it's scary."

Yes, yes it is. She didn't go through years of torture, but it's almost the same thing: when she rampaged through the Sanctuary after Maro betrayed her, and she saw all of her members slaughtered. And two more times when she found out Libby betrayed her, and for Kodlak's death. She couldn't control herself, and she fed into that anger, let it run wild like a beast.

"I'm sorry Malick."

"It's not your fault."

"I got you both involved in this, and if it weren't for me –!"

"Both?"

Diamond pauses, looking to Malick, and the realization hits his sapphire eyes and he blinks. "Ah, Veera."

Her eyes immediately water; and she wipes her eyes as she remembers the beautiful, spunky young girl with aqua hair that could match the northern lights.

"We buried her not long after." Malick says. "The healers did a nice job of – never mind. But, she is safe now."

Diamond nods, still wiping her eyes.

"Listen, Diamond, you don't need to think this is your fault. It was always our choice to leave, you were just the motivation we needed. We both got attracted to you – somehow – and you helped us gain the confidence to leave."

Diamond only shrugs her shoulders, rather grateful she didn't wear that much makeup as she wipes her eyes with the heels of her palm.

"You don't have too feel like you need to avenge us. It is not your burden. Veera knew the risks going into the missions, and she wanted nothing more than to die defiantly against Zusa."

She nods slowly.

"Diamond, look at me."

As she resists, Malick takes her chin in his fingers and angles her head to face him. She blinks and more tears spill over.

"It is not your burden to bare. Veera is safe, and avenged."

Diamond nods again and this time leans into Malick's shoulder. He cups the back of her head, stroking her hair. Taking deep breaths to calm herself, Diamond wipes her eyes again. She even giggles as Malick kisses her temple.

"Alright, anything else?" Malick asks.

"Um, a couple of things, but they're kind of the same thing." Diamond babbles, mentally slapping herself as Malick chuckles. "You know that Libitania Desidenius was a part of your group right?"

"Yes."

"Well she was also my best friend."

"That I figured out too. And 'was'?"

"Things went bad after I found out she was involved in the destruction of the Brotherhood. But I never knew, details. When did she get there, how long was she there? Was she involved with them before we even became friends? I was told a few details here and there, like Zusa found her when she was frozen hand half dead after the death of her father. She was what, eight years old? Like little bits of detail that I hope you can help fill in."

Malick leans back on his hands. "Well, from what I recall, Libby was there when I arrived, and I got there when I was seventeen. We were about the same age, but Zusa had already declared that Libby would be her protégé and heir. So I'm assuming yeah, she was there for a long while by the time I arrived."

"Did you two ever . . .?" Diamond trails off, fiddling with her hair.

"No." Malick chuckles. "Nothing really blossomed between us. She was always so quiet and kept to herself. Though, people knew she was good and some even wanted to partner up with her on missions. But relatively quiet."

"I see. So, when did she join the Guild?"

"I honestly don't know Diamond, I didn't keep such close tabs on her." Malick chuckles again. "All I know is that it was around one summer that she started coming to the Keep less and less, so I'm assuming around there."

Diamond huffs. "So she had an entire other life that she didn't tell me about."

"Maybe because she didn't want to. There are plenty of people out there who would love to forget their past. Don't even try to deny it."

"I'm just upset that she didn't trust me enough."

"Everyone has their reasons Diamond, and whenever Libitania is ready, she will tell you. That is if you even let her." Diamond looks to him, already knowing what he's about to say. "I saw what happened, what you did to her."

"You didn't know what she did."

"It's not what she did, it's what she _didn't_ do."

"What are you –?"

"She didn't kill Kodlak."

"I know that, the Silver Hand did, and I'm just blaming her out of anger. I've been through this lecture before." Diamond says with dangerous aggravation. "I'm tired of being told I'm wrong and acting like a child!"

"Well you wouldn't be if you didn't act like it and use common sense." Malick says with trained calm.

"How dare you –!"

"Zusa killed Kodlak."

Diamond pauses, and her heart grows heavy as everything begins to line in place. But at the same time, she doesn't want that reality to hit because when it does, she will come to realize the error of her mistake.

"The Prince of Mortal hired her with the rest of Libitania's payment money; and while neither her nor the prince planned on the Silver Hand attacking the hall, she made full advantage of that and was able to kill Kodlak while everyone's eyes were turned. I'm assuming you saw the body, Diamond, no simple bandit clan could do something like that."

The reality strikes, and Diamond sits back on her hands, her shoulders slouching. Yes, she did see the body, and she knew that no one of the Silver Hand could do such carefully inflicted damage without wasting time and being exposed. It takes a skilled hand to do that without anyone noticing. Someone with years of training, and Libby was the first person who came to her mind.

But it was Zusa. Zusa killed her beloved Harbinger.

And Diamond sent Libby . . .

What she said to Libby . . . what she did to Libby . . .

"Oh my gods," she whimpers, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah, Zusa couldn't stop bragging about the pay, and when I saw it myself, I couldn't even believe that Libitania had managed to pay off the prince with _that_ much money. She only framed Libitania because of the prince's orders, and it was just easier."

Diamond doesn't say anything. It's getting very hard to breathe. Something feels like it's compressing her chest and she even sets her own hand on it, disturbed to feel only her own.

"If it makes you feel any better, while I was out shopping for the rolls, I overheard some gossip saying that Princess Nassari Telivani paid her bail." Malick ignores Diamond's expression of raised brows and wide eyes. "I'll tell you, Libitania sure knows how to make friends."

Of course the princess bailed her out. But with taking the risk of freeing Skyrim's Assassin, that couldn't have come with an easy retribution.

"There was a court held in Morthal's Highmoon Hall. And Jarl Idgrod Ravencrone revealed Joric and his shenanigans to the whole court of Jarls. She acquitted Libitana's charges against killing Kodlak and instead accused her own son to the court, and ordered his interrogation and execution."

"She killed her own son?" Diamond speaks, her voice faint.

"Something was said about how there was a darkness in his heart that was beyond hopes of fixing. And after seeing her son for myself, I knew something was, off, about that kid. Quite literally spoiled rotten. And the best part is, she had his interrogation and execution done, by Libitania."

When Diamond looks to him, he only nods his head and gives a cold smile.

"A little something to ask for forgiveness and to fulfill her hunger for vengeance. They say that Princess Nassari rose up from her seat and unlocked the chains herself. And the Prince's own Captain of the Guard handed her swords and daggers." Malick takes another bite of another sweet roll. "When it was all said and done, I think Libitania left with the princess. And I don't know happened next. I would imagine the two went into hiding together now that the princess has, "sided" with Skyrim's Assassin. That's not exactly going to put her in favor of either sides of this war; especially with the rumors spreading about her trying to sabotage the Dominion."

"Do you know anything about Erelia Glendeylin?" Diamond suddenly asks.

Malick doesn't seem so surprised about her question, but it did earn her a raise of his eyebrows. "Almost as much as everyone else. Zusa isn't one to get involved in politics, at least openly herself. And neither am I; but with Erelia, there has been so much talk about her that it peaked my interest enough."

"What do you know?"

"Almost as much as everyone else. She's the lost heir of the Snow Elves, and people have reasons to believe that she's alive and readying her rebel army to take down both the Stormcloaks and the Empire to claim the throne as High Queen."

"Do you support her?"

Another shrug of those massive shoulders. "If I had to pick, I suppose my support would lie with Erelia. The Stormcloaks and Imperials are both going to run Skyrim into the ground, with the way the war is going. It'd be nice to have a third party to set them both in their place."

Malick is quiet for a moment, and Diamond can only heart beating, pumping blood in her ears until all she hears is the distant beating of a drum.

She was wrong. And she had sent Libby to rot in prison. Even if the princess had bailed her out, even if Libby is now free again, what she did and what she said . . . How can she get past the guilt in that? How can she ever live with herself?

"Are you worried that Libitania will come after you?" Malick asks.

"I would, if our roles were reversed."

"Yeah well," Malick grunts, "That's why you're _not_ Libitania Desidenius. Do you have any hopes of speaking with her, do you even want to ask for forgiveness?"

"I don't know."

"Well, I don't know what Libitania will do, but I know she won't force you." Malick must see the look in Diamond's eyes and he sighs. He comes closer, and Diamond's attention only goes to him when she feels his arm wrap around her and pull her close until she is practically sitting in his lap.

Legs crossed and arms wrapped around her, Malick nuzzles his nose into the crook of her neck. Shivers run down Diamond's spine, and she nearly gasps when she feels his lips kiss the skin just below her ear. Leaning her head forward, she doesn't stop the tears that slip through her closed eyes and drip onto her lap.

"Look Diamond, I don't have any easy answers. I don't know what's going to happen with whatever decision you make." Malick whispers, his breath making her skin crawl. "But one thing is clear, your fates have been intertwined for a reason, I can only hope for you that things will be alright."

"Whatever we had between us, it is gone. Completely and utterly gone. We're not the girls we used to know."

"I know." He mumbles. "But perhaps this provides you both with an opportunity. A chance to start anew with one another."

"I don't know." Diamond denies, shaking her head. "So far it would only seem that the gods are toying with me. My life has been nothing but misery and death. And when I actually started to believe that I could be truly happy, the world is taken out from under me."

Malick is quiet, holding her tighter as if he can draw out all of the pain in her heart. But she will not give him that burden.

"But at least things aren't all bad." She turns to look over her shoulder, Malick lifting his eyes to hers as if he felt her gaze. Lips trembling, Diamond makes herself say the words she's wanted to say since the moment he pissed her off in the Faceless Assassin's Keep. "Ever since I've met you, there's this little part of me, somewhere, that has remained . . . hopeful. I would tuck you away in my heart, to pull out when things got bleak, and to remind myself what it truly felt like to be . . . wanted. And now that you're here, after all of this time," Diamond sniffles, swallowing back her hesitation. "I'd like to think that the gods have blessed me with this one shred of happiness I have left."

Diamond shifts while in his lap to face him, his hands lowering to rest on her hips, fingers locked. Nothing but gentleness and softness are on Malick's features, smoothing out his skin and making his eyes glow in the light of the day.

"Malick, you are all that I have left. But I'm afraid." Malick furrows his brows, caressing her face. She nestles into his palm for a moment, finding her courage. "I'm afraid to get close because I don't want to lose you; because I've lost everything and everyone that I'm come to . . . care for deeply."

Sobs erupt out of her throat and suddenly her shoulders are shuddering. Why is she telling him all of this so soon? So stupidly? "I'm sorry." she mumbles.

But all Malick does is hold her closer, cupping the side of her head, stroking her cheek with his thumb. Diamond nestles into the crook of his elbow, kissing yet another scar.

"I'm sorry that you had to go through a tough life Diamond. But one of the many things that I admire about you is your spirit. You've never let life break you to the point that you gave up."

Diamond shakes her head. He doesn't know about how she spent the last three years of her life in a drunken stupor, stealing useless food, refusing to bathe, and even succumbed to her own demise by wolves.

"I'm not so strong. Everyone has their breaking point."

"Even so, you're still here. Still breathing. Still fighting." He kisses her shoulder, mumbling into her skin. "Your spirit, your determination to fight back, to rebel. It's what drew me to you, because I haven't seen that kind of fight in anyone for so long."

She wipes her eyes and looks over to him. He leans in and kisses her cheek.

"Now that I've found you, I don't plan on ever letting you go again." He then suddenly rubs her head, messing her hair and loosening her ponytail. "So good luck, you're stuck with me."

Diamond whines and tries to move her head away, but she is smiling. She takes out her ponytail and runs her fingers through her hair to smooth it out. Malick just looks to her. Swiping it from side to side, Diamond looks back and just lets her hair fall.

Malick takes her and kisses her temple again.

"What do I do?" Diamond asks.

"I don't know." He whispers. "But the best advice I can give, is that you can't avoid the inevitable. Should you come to face her, say what you need, and let her decide. It depends on the both of you."

Diamond lets his words sink into her skull, letting them drive her emotions. She had wronged Libby, that was obvious, and would she apologize? Yes, because it wasn't Libby's fault. Should she ever see Libby again, she will apologize. For her words. For her anger. For her betrayal, and for the scar that she gave Libby. That forever reminder of when she had lost her friend.

Malick takes Diamond's hand, bringing it up to kiss her fingertips.

Then this time, Diamond winds up her courage as best she can and she leans in. When her lips find Malick's a bolt of lightning shoots through her, sending goosebumps across her skin and down into her stomach. Or rather, lower for that matter. Malick's hand is instantly on her neck, gently caressing and holding her close.

She nearly whimpers with surprise, pleasure and excitement when she feels Malick's tongue so easily slip past her lips. Her body tingles all over, and for a moment, she feels her heart piece together and then shatter.

Because now she understands. She understands the pain she not only inflicted on Libby, but on Farkas as well.

Selfishly, as she feels Malick pull her even closer, to the point that their chests touch, she thinks of the roles in a different way. That Zusa was accusing Malick of a murder, and someone sentencing Malick to death. She puts herself in Farkas' place, and she understands.

She would've done the same things. No, she would've done worse.

Her legs boldly wrap around Malick's waist, and she makes a sound – a mixture of a laugh and a squeak – when she feels his hands drift low to her bum and give a gentle squeeze. She hitches and pulls back, only to find him biting his lower lip with a sexy, predatory grin.

She giggles nervously, and moves his hands back up to her middle, and Malick kisses her collarbone.

"Don't worry Diamond." He whispers. "I'll be right here. To hold you when the sky falls down and I won't ever let you go again."

Diamond entangles her fingers in his hair, and kisses his forehead. Gods, how is it this beautiful creature can be hers? Could she really let herself love him as much as she wills it?

Perhaps.

Malick is strong. Malick is powerful. Malick is a survivor.

Perhaps, just perhaps.

So when Diamond kisses him again, she lets herself sink into his scent, into his protective arms, and wills the darkness in her to subside. Maybe one day he will have the power to extinguish it.

Perhaps.


	51. Chapter 50

Walking back to the hall was a bit of a struggle seeing as how Diamond had to keep herself from skipping as she walks while holding hands with Malick. He simply slid their hands together after they left the apothecary shop. Diamond looked to him, and he didn't say anything, just smiled, shrugged and continued walking.

It was close to the late evening as they are walking back to Jorrvaskr. Given that all they ate were sweet rolls, she's hungry for some real food. She's invited Malick back to the hall for a simple dinner, and she hopes no one will question her, thinking she is still dealing with her grief. She's prepared herself for the questions and stares that the rest of the members will have. But given Malick isn't in his Faceless uniform, hopefully they won't be too suspicious.

The Gildergreen comes into view, and Diamond fiddles with the cuff of her sleeve. Jorrvaskr comes into view and they begin to mount the steps. To keep her heart steady, she only thinks of the meals in her mind that will appeal to Malick.

Neither of them say much, considering all that was said in the apothecary shop. They make it to the stairs and up they go. Diamond exchanges a look with Malick, and smiles as she drops his hand to open the doors.

"I hope you like some fried salmon." She says nervously.

"I'll manage." He says with a shrug of those shoulders.

Diamond giggles and opens the doors wide, stepping inside. She's about to say something else until she turns her head towards the firepit. She didn't even notice the odd silence until she noticed the other members crowded around the table, with wide eyes.

She hears the steps of Malick coming in behind her.

Libitania Desidenius is standing in front of the fire pit.

She's facing the other members, her black cape billowing behind her.

Her head first angles to glance over her shoulder. And then she slowly turns to face Diamond and Malick.

Diamond almost cowers behind Malick when she beholds the look of lethality in her emerald colored eyes. Her ring of gold of her eyes glowing like a living flame.

Eyes of the members flick between Diamond and Malick, and then to the thing dangling from Libby's hands. Diamond could tell Vilkas was striding towards Libby when she entered, but he, too, stopped he beheld the object she carried.

A head.

Diamond's breathing hitches and she takes a step back, nearly bumping into Malick, a solid, protective mass behind her. This is different from the feral creature she'd become the night she rampaged through Cidhna Mines, and from when they traveled to Glenmoril Coven.

What she is right now, the edge on which she is balancing on . . . Divines help them all.

The woman's face is still set in a scream, and there is something vaguely familiar about the grotesque features and ebony black hair that Libby grips. It's hard to be certain as it swings from her fingers.

Libby approaches Diamond, a fluid movement limned with restrained power. She stops at the base of the stairs, her eyes pinning Diamond to her spot. She lifts her arm, raising the head up high, Diamond's stomach rocking with nausea.

No one says anything.

Libby then gives a flick of her arm and tosses the head directly to Diamond's feet. It stops just an inch from her toes of her boots, rolling ever so slowly until it lolls so the dead eyes stare into hers. Vaguely, like looking into frosted glass, she sees the color green.

Zusa.

Diamond's heart triples in speed, her breath escaping her lungs, and her knees nearly buckling. But she feels Malick's grasp her elbow – a reminder that she is not here alone.

She softly hears Malick exhale as he comes to recognizes the face too.

Zusa. Zusa Phoenix, the leader of the Faceless. Zusa, the alleged Queen of the Underworld. The woman who destroyed her life, and Libby's, and Malick's.

She had killed her. She actually managed to _kill_ Zusa Phoenix. And judging from the lacerations of her face, how grotesque it is, she mauled her, and she had to have been alive during the whole thing.

How? How is that possible? Libby had come close once, but . . . that was out of an impulsive anger.

What kind of emotion, what kind of _anything_ could possibly give her the power to kill Zusa? Do the guards know? What happened to the other members?

Still staring at Diamond's with intimidating intensity, Libitania blinks slowly.

Softly, she speaks,

"It is done."

Then with a smile devoid of any warmth, she stares down Diamond and Malick before stalking past them, her shoulder nearly brushing with Libitania's.

Even then, she could feel something strike her shoulder, and travel down her arm and spreading around her body. It felt like something stung her, and the pain traveled through her like lightning.

Libitania leaves Jorrvaskr, her dark cape sweeping behind her.

Silence.


	52. Chapter 51

The ground races by beneath Erelia Glendeylin's pounding feet, the chilled autumn air stinging her lungs. As she runs, Erelia feels her body enter that uncomfortable place of being warm on the inside but cold with sweat on the outside. She knew she'd pay later for not having warmed up or anything before launching straight into a full-out run.

She swings around a thin tree and slows, however, as a new thought enters her mind. She stops and stares down the road where, just ahead, she can see the side entrances to the forest.

She hesitates, taking a moment to breathe, to debate. She pulls the straps of her sheath of arrows forward, bringing the quiver flush with her back, and she feels the weight of her bow bottle as it presses into her spine.

Even though the forest is huge, with patches split by lots of twisty, turny roads and steep rolling hills, it would be a lot faster to cut through.

Erelia glances skyward. Through the smattering of clouds, three early night stars shine in the deepening blue, but it isn't completely dark yet. If she goes through the park, if she runs the whole way and manages not to get lost, she'd make it in time for sure. She knew it.

Her mind made up, she darts for the park entrance.

On either side of her loom tall trees. They seem to watch her as she veers past, taking the one-way dirt road that curves upward into the park. Her path soon narrows to a single, twisting lane of grime. Rows of trees and thick underbrush emerge on either side of her. The farther into the park she runs, the denser the surrounding forest grows.

Overhead, the interlocking patchwork of hanging boughs work to transform her pathway into a darkening tunnel. Through the lacework of limbs, thick clouds inch by.

Erelia runs on, listening to the soft beat of her boots as they pound the ground. She can't wait to get back to the campsite and into a bath in the pond. She thinks about making herself some peppermint tea and maybe even going to bed early, even though she can't say it was because she is looking forward to tomorrow.

Darkness creeps in around her, spreading its fingers through the trees, working to smear them into a single black blur.

As she approaches a fork in the road, she slows, but only long enough to decide that she should keep going straight.

She keeps running, her breath the loudest sound in her ears. The only sound.

Erelia frowns, at last admitting to herself that something had felt funny since she entered the forest. Only now, however, can she place her finger on what.

She slows her run to a jog, listening to the lonely, hollow clap of her boots.

Quiet.

Everything around her stands really still and really . . . quiet.

The breeze that greeted her outside the entrance has vanished somewhere between there and here, and she looks up now to find the tree limbs motionless, their leaves immobile.

Or are those leaves t all?

A black shadow moves in one of the trees, and Erelia registers the silhouette of one huge black bird. It makes no sound, though it seems to watch her from its perch. One of the leaves at its side moves. Another bird. Soon, with a ruffle of feathers, she notices another and, on her other side, another.

One of them breaks the silence with a caw, the sound falling harsh on her ears, rasping and raw.

Spooked, Erelia picks up the pace again, glad that she's kept himself in such great shape. True, she isn't the world's best runner, but she can keep going if she needs to, and right now, she needs to.

She wonders, an ice-water sensation rushing through her veins with the thoughts, if something's following her.

Erelia shakes off the convulsive shudder that rattles its way through her shoulders. Stupid idea. If anything was following, it was someone. Thieves. Bandits.

Maybe the stillness is just her imagination. After all, this is the woods. Woods are supposed to be placid. Serene. Maybe she just misses the sounds of laughing men and people and the glare of candlelight. Besides, everything dies in the fall anyway, right? All the little crickets have chirped their last sometime back in early September.

Still, she can't help feeling that there should be some sounds. Like a foraging squirrel. A startled rabbit or something.

Erelia slows to a stop again, this time so she can catch her breath. She leans forward, clasping her knees, her own huffing all but reverberating in the silence. She glances over her shoulder at the darkening stretch of road behind her, black like a ribbon of ink. She looks forward once more. She wasn't sure, but she thinks the exit to the narrow path lay straight ahead from where she stands right now. If she is right, she'd enter a clearing behind the campsite and be back maybe even with a few seconds to spare.

But something else feels wrong now, and it isn't just the stillness.

Since she has stopped running, the air around her has seemed to compress, to grow denser. She can't explain it, but it feels as though the night itself, unnatural in its calmness, has begun to move in on him, to close in tight.

Her nerves prickle. Along her neck and arms, all hairs rise to stand on end.

The idea of feeling being watched had always sort of struck Erelia as being corny kind of way. Now, though, as she turns and looks around at all the black trees with their skeletal arms tangled in a silent fight for space, she can't help the sudden feeling that, somewhere among them, something watches her, waits for her to move again.

The birds are gone now. Which is weird, since she hadn't heard them take off.

She listens.

Nothing but the silence grows, feeding on itself until it becomes a dull roar in her ears.

Erelia continues on the path, though at a slower, quieter walk, and just when she starts to think that listening to the eerie nothing might be worse than actually hearing something, a hushing sound – a fast _whoosh_ – breaks through from the line of trees at her right.

Erelia jumps and readies her dagger, an ice pick of hear stabbing her through the middle so that, for a moment, she forgets how to breathe.

Whatever it was had been big. As in person big.

"Who's there?"

_Skoooshh_!

Erelia whirls. This sound had come from the trees directly across the road. It comes again from behind. Erelia hears the pop of a branch and the crush of dry leaves. She spins in a circle, and despite the cascade of sudden noise, the rustling and crackling, she can't sense so much as the slightest movement in any direction.

She feels her throat constrict and her chest tighten. Her heartbeat speeds to triple time. She turns and breaks once more into a run, taking the trail as hard and as fast as her legs would carry her. Her palms, cold and sweaty, tighten around the grip of her dagger, and she feels her quiver of arrows pound against her.

Whatever it was in the woods, it follows her. Out of the corner of one eye, she thinks she sees the edge of a dark something. Then there's another at her left. Figures, tall and long, rush through the black gate of trees on either side of her, their movements too fast. Impossibly fast.

As she speeds up, so do the dappled forms.

They seem to multiply as, out of her periphery, she spots yet another. This one glides away from the others to rush along the group of trees directly beside her.

It moves _through_ the trees, through undergrowth, dashing over the dry ground – a rippling form. Erelia risks a quick glance, head-on, but sees nothing, only blackness and tangled branches and stillness. But that was impossible!

"Go away!" she screams. She can't outrun them, or whatever or whoever they were. She can't gain even the slightest bit of distance, and already a stitch the size of a softball has begun to knot itself in her side. She blocks out the pain, pushing through.

Run. Run. _Run_!

"Run!" she hears someone hiss. A man.

It had come from the line of trees beside her.

Erelia tries to cry for help but can't find the breath, able to only choke out a low sob. She can't stop to scream, but she can't keep going like this, either. She can't breathe anymore. Her lungs sting from the cold while her sides ache with stiffening pain.

Why hadn't she just gone with someone? Why hadn't she just –

The clearing!

Straight ahead. There! She can see it.

Dizziness wafts in around her temples, but she wouldn't stop now. Somehow, she knew that if she could just clear the heap of fallen tree trunks, she would make it back. She'd be all right.

Reaching for a thick uprooted root of a tree, Erelia clasps a hand to the wood and, as she vaults over, feels the stabbing reward of a thick splinter as it enters her palm. Her feet hit the dust and dirt pathway beyond. She teeters forward from the weight of her sheath and slams to her knees. She picks himself up again, stumbling, scrambling, running even as her body begs her to stop.

The small pebbles at her feet rattle around him. Whispers and hisses. Someone laughs, but the sound morphs into a high-pitched shriek. She hears a splintering shatter, like a crash of plates.

She dares not turn around.

To her left and right familiar gatherings of trees zoom by, looking like interlocked hands trapping her. She tears past them, and even as the campsite draws into view, she does not slow. She wills her body to keep moving in spite of her screaming muscles, the torturous ache in her lungs.

"_Ereliaaa_."

The sound of her name whisks by her, caught by the wind and then lost in the rush of leaves scattering around her feet. She hears it, though. Her name. Someone has whispered her name.

That, at last, stops her and brings her stuttering to a halt at the edge of the campground threshold. She wheels around, eyes scanning. She gasps for breath, sucking down air in huge gulps.

She peels off his bow and arrows and, mustering every bit of strength she has left, throws it onto the ground. It makes a dull thud sound as the weapons slam into the cold, hard turf.

Whoever it was had said her name. That meant they knew her.

As though triggered by the flip of a switch, rage replaces her fear.

"Who's there?" she shouts, heaving. "Who is it? Why don't you just come out?"

She wiped her running nose with her sleeve, not caring.

"Come on!" she roars toward the gathering of oak trees. "I know you're there!" This she turns on a row of shrubs lining a cobblestone sidewalk.

"Come on you cowards! I'm right here! Come and face me you _cowards_! Wherever you are – _whoever_ you are –!" As she shouts, Erelia spins in a circle so that her voice echoes all through the open land. So everyone, everything could hear her.

Erelia turns and sees the silhouette of a woman. She could tell the woman is about her age, maybe older. Still with rage coursing, she turns and huffs to the woman. She stands at profile, decorated in all black, a cape billowing behind her. Erelia takes a bold step closer, her dagger close in her hands.

Suddenly the woman slowly turns her head to face Erelia. Her skin porcelain white, deep blood-red lips. Her hands red with blood, and darkness rippling off of her like smoke of a fire.

Erelia's mouth goes dry as paper, and her stomach plummeted to the floor. The eyes depict brutality and a coldness that's so familiar.

She whimpers to the gods, her dagger clanging to the ground.

The woman raises a thin, abnormally long hand, the tips of which ended in long red talonlike claws. She waves at Erelia. Her nails, more like the scarlet fangs from some deadly venomous snake, gleams in the light. Erelia recognized the belt of daggers, a sword strapped to her sides.

_Gods no_ . . .

Erelia freezes, her eyes locking on a jagged black hole that marked the side of the woman's cheek, as though an entire chunk of her face had been knocked out, like a chink in a porcelain vase.

Erelia can see straight through, to the hollow jaw and two rows of white daggerlike teeth within. Fear pulses through her veins and yet stood hypnotized. This woman is horrible and fascinating all at once, like a scorpion prepared to strike, all angles and sharp lines and menace.

In one blinking movement, the assassin lunges at Erelia, jaw unhinging, the black hole in her face widening. Teeth bared, claws outstretched, she unleashes an ungodly sound, something between a death screech and a demon's howl.

It happened too fast for Erelia to form her own scream, too fast for her raised arms to do any good. The assassin's claws rained down, her form loosened into violet smoke.

Erelia coughs and the ground beneath her feet trembles, then shudders before opening up. Darkness swirls inside it like an in ground whirlpool. Erelia falls backward. A shrieking torrent of jet scales engulf the light.

"You can't hide from me."

The edges of her surroundings quiver, dirt and rock loosening until, at last, they break forth in a tidal surge.

Slowly she sinks into the ground like in quicksand. Earth pours over her in rushing waves from all sides. It falls against her body in heavy clods, a suffocating weight that fast becomes crushing.

"No!" Erelia screams in a rustic tone.

She flails and thrashes, battling to loosen herself from the raining soil and ash that threatens to consume her. She fights to stand, causing the dirt to press more tightly around her. It claims her legs, trapping her. She reaches with both arms toward the open sky, but the earth gushes, building to her waist, to her chest. It piles past her shoulder, her head, and now reaches to consume her arms, swallowing the light one fragment at a time.

The packed dirt squeezes her chest, crushes her lungs. She can't breathe. Erelia gasps involuntarily and is rewarded with a mouthful of course grime. She swallows and her body convulses at the acrid taste. Her lungs burn for air. Her heart knocks against her ribcage, begging for release.

Up above, she can see the assassin. Her face torn between helping her, or letting her die.

"_Help_! _Please, help me_!" Erelia begs.

Her ears roar, and a strange hum grows louder within her brain as her chest convulses and she coughs, sucking in a mouthful of dirt in exchange.

The grit burns her lungs, and she coughs again.

More dirt. More coughing. More pain.

And then it's gone. The pain recedes. Her chest relaxes.

Erelia's lungs stop demanding air.

* * *

Libby sharply gasps for breath, a scream fighting to escape her lips. Her body moist with sweat.

A dull ache creeps up from her spine to settle in her chest. She was dreaming about something. Though as she tries to remember, only small bits buoy to the surface, like the remnants of a shipwreck, bit by bits float to the top.

She rolls over, squeezing her eyes shut, stuffing her face into her pillow. She wasn't ready to remember what had happened, to recall the nightmare.

The faint pins-and-needles sensation, still there, buzzed through her like a soft vibration, though the closer she drifted to full consciousness, the faster it seemed to fade. An unfamiliar tingling prickles along her limbs, like the faint buzz of static electricity.

She opens her eyes again and gazes straight ahead, afraid that her head is light and she will convulse. She swallows to fight the wave of nausea away. As she blinks, she lifts her head and carefully turns from side to side. Her head seems fine, and it's then she takes in her surroundings.

She is bathed in a soft mauve color and Libitania keeps her gaze to the side and drifts it upward to a vaulted roof, the light of the moon muffled by the fabric curving inwards. And then she remembers she's inside a tent. All at once her senses revive and Libitania is suddenly aware of the hard-packed earth beneath her back, a rapidly throbbing pain in the middle of her spine and the softness of her bedroll she's cocooned in. Libitania pushes herself to sitting position and looks around.

The moonlight makes the tent fabric glow softly and Libitania can see the black skeletal silhouettes of the bare trees that surround the tree in an almost constant observant over her. Beyond the flap of the tent, she can see the faint glow of the camp's fire as well as the brownish apparitions of the other tents that circle the campsite, some of their flaps propped open by old tree branches, a warm buttery glow emanating from within themselves. She's wearing a tunic of forest-green, and light grey pants and her feet are bare.

That's right. After she entered Jorrvaskr and delivered Zusa's head to Diamond, she came back here with Nassari and Farkas, because she had nowhere else to go. Farkas came along because he wanted to be with Libby, even when and after he witnessed what she had become.

Looking to her left, she finds Farkas asleep with one arm tucked under his head to substitute for the deflated hay pillow. His hair is a tousled mess, and a soft snore rattles his breath as he inhales. When in sleep his face is so much softer and at ease. He gives off such a sense of peace that his features become smooth like marble.

Libitania has to refrain from touching him since she doesn't want to disturb Farkas with her shaking fingers. She clutches them to her chest and tries to slow her heartbeat and breathing. Tucking her knees to her chest, Libitana wraps her arms around her legs and begins to rock herself back and forth in an attempt to calm herself.

She still remembers it, clear as crystal, and yet, she doesn't feel like it was really her. More like a wild beast wearing her skin. Just like Cidhna Mines. Just like Glenmoril Coven. She wasn't really thinking, more like running off of an instinct that she can't name.

She didn't expect Diamond to be with Malick; that was the only thing she wasn't prepared for. But it didn't matter. Now that Zusa and the prince are dead, there's really nothing left for her to do. There's really no reason to be Libitania Desidenius anymore. She can't go back to the Guild, not after everything she's done. She'd crossed every line that she wasn't supposed to. She disregarded everything the Guild, and her father stood for.

Under her fingernails, she can still see bits of Zusa's dried blood. The battle was, easy. So much that both she and Zusa were surprised when Libitania blocked every move, made every swipe draw blood, and taunted her silently with the maddening ease of how Zusa could not lay a single hit. After her blade was thoroughly bloodied, and after Zusa was kneeling on the floor with a fair sized puddle of blood under her knees, Libitania dropped her blades and resorted to fists and feet.

Sometimes they are more satisfying. And every time her fist ached from connecting to Zusa's pretty little face, the satisfactory was almost orgasmic. She made Zusa pay, far more than she did with the prince. Then when she strolled into the dining room, holding Zusa's head, the remaining members were quiet, but then erupted into cheers and roars of freedom. She let the members spit on her corpse, let them destroyed the entirety of that mansion until fires started to devour the thresholds, the carpets, the furniture. Some members swung from the chandeliers, destroyed even the tiniest possession Zusa owned before they fled the premises; some even ripping off their wrappings and running stark naked through the forest.

Before she went to Jorrvaskr, she stopped by the bank to request a transfer of Zusa's money to each of the members of the Faceless, and when the teller saw Zusa's head in her hand, he didn't ask one question, just asked how much she wanted to each account. Libitania gave it all to each of the members.

She didn't want Zusa's money; but perhaps the rebels would. She brought the sum of money to the camp after leaving Diamond with the head, and again, no one asked any questions.

A loud snore from Farkas makes her jerk her head towards him, even let herself laugh a little. Seeing him now so quiet and with even breathing, Libitania doesn't dare make even the slightest notion to touch him. So she rocks herself back and forth, trying to silence her ragged breathing. Her tent soon feels like a prison cell. If she doesn't get air soon, she fears she's going to scream once more.

As quietly as she can, Libitania pushes to her feet and snatches her boots and jacket that lie sprawled next to her bedroll and pushes through the flap of the tent and out into the crisp, chilled air of oncoming dawn.

Her maneuver wasn't silent enough, as the cold wind swept over Farkas' face and he reacts with a squeezing of his eyes before fluttering them open and finding Libitania's bedroll empty and the flap of the tent wavering slightly.

"Libby?"

Libitania runs down a forest trail and down towards a river close to the campsite. At first glance at her, some random traveler would think with her speed that she's trying to escape from someone. But Libitania isn't looking for escape, only to fill her lungs with air. She wants to be out in the open and see the sky and the moon.

Finally she sees the surface of the water as it ripples in the breeze, disorienting the reflection of the moon's light. She slows her pace as she approaches; the tip of her nose she assumes is already starting to redden as it becomes runny and she has to sniffle. Her face numbed from the wind, Libitania takes a seat on the stump of an old tree cut down years ago. Catching her breath, the assassin haunches forward, elbows to her knees and fingers interlocked in the middle. Her jacket isn't enough to stop her shivering or prevent gooses bumps form crawling their way along her arms and legs, the feeling being similar to ants.

Drawing her dagger free, the entire weapon made of ebony steel and one side serrated while another is smooth, Libitania grips it rightly in one hand as she muscles clench tight against the cold. She may be cold and winded, but she won't let a pack of wild dogs mistake her for being easy prey.

Alone with only her thoughts, Libitania begins to make her gaze go vacant as she drifts off.

She doesn't know what to do. Now that she's free, now that she's killed the Prince and Zusa, now that she's been pardoned for everything she's ever done, what is she to do? The prince and Zusa were all that was left for Libitania. She didn't think of a plan after this, she didn't even think she would see the light of another day again.

Now she's camping with rebels she doesn't exactly fully support, she still has lost her once closest friend, and she's refusing herself to go home. What is she to do with her life now? Join the rebels? She still feels as useless as she did before. Her will to even want to start a new life, away from Skyrim and away from blades and daggers and poison is gone now. She could just be as useless as the rock beneath her.

What is she to do with Farkas? He still loves her, he claims, even after what he had watched her become. But he still doesn't know her, and Libitania can sense an underlying issue between them. And unspoken conversation that just the thought of makes Libby's stomach turn.

Leaning over to see her reflection in the water, Libitania can see another thing that makes her confused as to why Farkas could still somehow love her. She isn't the same ruthless woman that probably would've made a better leader than the one Libitania sees staring back at her. The scar on her left eye is still grossly vivid, and forever will be should she not go and see an expert healer.

She studies the outline of her ebony hair and wan features. Her gaze lingers on the gain dark half-circles etched under each eye.

For a moment, it's as though she can't place his own face. A stranger, too thin, too pale, stares back at her, withered-looking, like a plant in need of sunlight. These days, it was getting harder and harder to tell what was real and not.

As the water settles down with the velvet touch of the wind, Libitania can see a silhouette of a mass in the water. She squints her eyes and leans closer and it isn't until she sees the color of skin morph into the mass does she realize that it's on the surface of the water.

Whirling her head around, she finds Farkas wrapped in a quilt with his long-sleeved tunic and loose trousers underneath. On his other arm he holds another blanket. His hair a tousled mess and drooping to his shoulders. Libitania just stares at him despite the glare her features are giving off.

"I thought I'd find you here." Farkas says softly with a small smile.

Libitania's eyes flick from Farkas' face to the blanket and then back before she turns her head to face the water again. "I couldn't sleep." she mumbles.

"Another bad dream?" Farkas assumes.

She nods and rests his chin on his knees.

"That's the third time this week." he says as he walks over to the assassin. He takes the blanket and drapes it around her shoulders, Libitania slightly cringing before relaxing. She'd lost track of the days. Has Kodlak's funeral already proceeded? She's been so lost in feeing her anger for vengeance she didn't know. But Farkas would've told her by now.

She should get up, move around, work the stiffness from her joints, but instead she merely sits as motionless as the stump beneath her. Farkas pets her head and moves to sit next to the tree stump on the ground. "Are you okay?" he asks.

"No, not really." Libitania replies with a shake of her head.

"Are you sure you don't want any of those sleeping pills –"

"No." she stops him abruptly.

She knows what he's referring to. A female Dunmer bandit is apparently an old apprentice of a healer, but she has since joined the supporters of Erelia and the mutineers in against the Stormcloaks and the Empire. She has the capability to heal the wounded, as she had done many times in the past, and had lately become the doctor of the rebel group.

She has spent the better part of their traveling concocting up potions and spells by using natural ingredients all around them such as flowers and spices and poison plants. She had managed to make a form of sleeping pill created by the nectar of a honeysuckle for sweet taste and the calming components of chamomile flowers. But when Libitania tried a sleeping pill, it had only created hallucinations and nightmares brought on by the memories of her past.

Since then, she had refused them, as they had left a bad taste in not only her mouth but her mind too. The Dunmer insisted they are free of any elements that induce nightmares, but Libitania still refused to take it and even with her reasons not being so strong.

Farkas sighs and leans back, resting on his hands as he tilts his head up to the sky. "You want to talk about it?" he asks.

Libitania huddles into the quilt, finally taking notice that it was even there. She shakes her head. "Not yet."

"Any reason why? You've never hesitated before." Farkas says.

She looks to him and there's a familiar hardness in his eyes that Farkas has watched her put up when she's closing herself off. "I'm just not ready."

Farkas' throat tightens and he has to clear his throat to rid the feeling. "Oh."

He reaches up and manages to grasp Libitania's fingers as they were tracing around the toe of her boot. "You know I'm here for you, right?" he softly speaks.

"I know." A flat reply.

"I'm honestly surprised. I thought after you killed both Zusa and the prince, I thought you'd be, happier."

"Me too."

Unable to take the her stiffly responses, Farkas gets up and rounds to her front. There he takes Libtiania's face in his hands and leans in, placing his lips on hers. He can immediately feel her slowly start to unwind like a tension coil as she lowers her knees to the ground, giving Farkas more space to lean in. Libitania tilts his head to deepen the kiss and sighs into Farkas' mouth. Breaking apart, he rests his forehead against hers, and for a moment and he can hear the woman draw in a shaky breath.

"You should get some sleep." she mumbles.

Farkas can't help but quietly laugh. "As should you."

"That's easier said than done."

"Is there any way I can help?" Farkas smiles.

Libitania gives a small smile back, and that affection alone is enough to make Farkas feel like the richest man in the world. As he sees the assassin come up with an idea in his head, Farkas helps him off the stump. All of Libitania's joints complain and her right leg has been coiled tight for so long that it takes several minutes of pacing before the pins-and-needles sensation dwindles away. According to the sky, dawn is nearly approaching as the two walk back to the camp, Farkas keeping a warm hand on the small of her back.

Back at the camp, they see some of the rebels exchange shifts to watch over the campsite. Farkas gives one Orc a nod as they pass by, Libitania keeping her gaze low as they make a beeline for their tent.

Once behind the tarp curtain, she casts aside her jacket, but keeps the quilt. Without exchanging words, Farkas moves his bedroll closer to hers and they both snuggle down together draping their blankets over.

Libitania scoots closer to Farkas and wraps her arms around his torso in an embrace. Farkas hugs her back and breathes into the crook of her neck. "How about tomorrow we go hunting together?" he says as she rests her head on his chest.

"I'd like that." Libitania says, and Farkas can tell she is smiling.

"Try to get some sleep. Okay?" Farkas pats her back and gives a kiss on her forehead as she settles down in his arms. Libitania hand grips Farkas and she strokes his forefinger with her thumb.

As she lets Farkas' scent inhale into her nose, Libitania catches herself wishing she had taken advantage of being alone with Farkas. Time and again she's had to fight the urge to confess to Farkas about, everything. Diamond would've been the first person, but now she's shut Libitania out forever. There's Nassari, but for some reason that she won't question, Libitania can only trust Farkas with this information. She's tired of lying. She's tired of keeping herself locked in her own purgatory of gaining and losing.

"What's your deepest secret?" she suddenly asks.

She feels Farkas shift and she angles her head to find him staring at her. He blinks, raises his brows but clears his throat. "The only secret I've borne my entire life is my beastblood. That is something I shall go my entire life without voicing. And that I love you. I was afraid that would be another secret that would follow me to my grave."

"How?" She asks softly. "How can you still love me when you saw how dark I can become."

"They might call me a fool, but I see beauty in your darkness. And the pain that I felt after I nearly lost you, I never want to do through that pain again." Farkas says. Libitania burrows into his neck, sighing deeply. "What is yours?"

The tent feels too small, the air too thick. She closes her eyes. It takes her a minute, and more nerve than she realized, but the answer finally came. It has always been there—whispering to her in her sleep, behind every breath, a dark weight that she couldn't ever escape.

"Deep down," she says, "I'm a coward."

His brows rose.

"I'm a coward," she repeats. "And I'm scared. I'm scared all the time. Always."

He removes her hand from his cheek to kiss the tips of her fingers. "I get scared, too," he murmurs onto her skin. "But you want to hear something ridiculous? Whenever I'm scared, whenever I feel nervous, whenever I feel alone, I remember that I have you."

Now it is Libby's turn to blinks.

"I remember that I have you, that you love me. And I remember that I still have something worth fighting for. Something to live for."

"I like that." She whispers. "Thank you Farkas."

After a moment, she speaks up again.

"I guess it's just, I don't know what to do with myself anymore. I had a purpose with the prince and Zusa still alive. Now that they're dead and Kodlak avenged, I just . . . don't see a point in being Libitania anymore."

"You always said you wanted to be free. It's not what you expected?" he asks.

"I didn't expect to lose my best friend. I didn't expect to lose my house or my servants. I didn't expect Kodlak to be dead, I just –" her voice hitches.

"Libitania, none of that is your fault."

"Then why does it hurt so bad?" she whimpers. "I had a purpose."

"Can't you go back to the Guild?"

"Not after everything I've done."

"Some family." Farkas bites bitterly.

"It's not them, Farkas, it's me. I'm not the girl I used to be. I've been so caught in my life as an assassin, that I had practically abandoned my life, and my father's life as a thief. And with the blood I've shed, the people I've killed, I feel like it would almost be a violation to go back to the Guild."

Farkas' hand lifts and tentatively touches the scar on her left eye. The scar inflicted upon her by Diamond. Just the thought alone makes his eyes harden with a need for vengeance.

"We could run away."

Libby lifts her head to him.

"We could. Just you and me. After Kodlak's funeral tomorrow, I'll collect my things and we could leave."

"We can't do that." She states.

"Why not? There's nothing left to hold you hear –"

"We just can't."

Farkas sighs and pulls back slightly, the notion making her nervous. "You know, there's nothing wrong if you just admit that this is about Diamond. Or is this about Erelia?"

Her heart skips a beat.

Farkas goes on. "I know you care for Diamond, Libitania, but she does not care for you anymore. She doesn't deserve you. She is childish and impulsive and still too inexperienced to know right from wrong."

"Farkas,"

"She sent you to the dungeons, to death with no sympathy with what you had just experienced." He pushes further.

"She was just upset. She didn't know what to think and what to believe."

"You can't keep making excuses for her, Libitania." Farkas says, straining to make his voice quiet. "Why can't you see your own denial. Sometimes people aren't worth keeping."

Libitania shakes her head and lowers her gaze.

"You avoid my eyes because you know it's true."

Libitania swallows hard. "I lost her because I wasn't truthful. My lies led her to not trusting me, and jumping to conclusions. While it is true she needs better judgment, it was my own upbringing."

"How can you say that about yourself?"

"I've been lying my whole life Farkas. It's a sickness that I need to quench, but that would mean facing my past and . . . I just can't yet. I'm a coward." She reiterates.

"Look Libby, it's obvious that something more happened when you were young. And admitting it is the first step. And there's no rush. When you're good and ready to tell me the truth, you'll do it. And no matter what it is, when that day comes, I'll be honored that you trust me enough to do so. But until then, it's not my business, and it's not Diamond's business. It's not anyone's business but your own."

She doesn't know what it is – or perhaps she does – but lately she's been wanting Farkas more and more. After confessing their love to one another, it has come to Libitania's attention on how Farkas' kisses alone are almost not enough to sustain the hunger that lingers deep inside her. A hunger for _him_.

"I can't leave. And there's more to this than just Diamond." She retorts. "And I won't let you abandon your guild."

Farkas chuckles, a tickle of breath on her mouth. "It is no longer my Guild. I don't want anything to do with that place anymore."

"What –?"

"It's not a good fit. Not anymore. After watching them cowardly stand aside after letting you get hauled off, after what Diamond had done, I can't stand to be in the confounds of that place anymore."

"You've lived there your whole life, how could you so easily let it go?"

"Because they let you go."

"Farkas, you can't just drop everything for me. You love your country."

"I love you, Libitania." A chill climbs up Libitania's spine. "And it's not something so sudden. After Kodalk's death, and after seeing where my brother's loyalty lies with that dumb blonde –"

"Farkas."

"Sorry. It just, doesn't feel the same as it did. It'll be a new beginning for the both of us. After Kodlak's funeral, and after you finish whatever else it is you need to do, we can leave."

"You mean it?"

"Whenever you're ready to leave."

"I don't know." She sighs.

"I'm in no rush. Besides, you do have other houses around Skyrim. I've grown so used to your fineries that I've become soft." Farkas chuckles, tickling her side. Libitania squirms, but allow a giggle.

"And that's my fault?"

"All that and more." He says, kissing her lips.

Neither of them say much after that, Libitania filling in the silence with small bits of what she has to get finished, such as electing a new Guild Leader, making sure Nassari is in good hands before she leaves, and making sure she can rake together enough money off of selling her houses. By the time she glances up to Farkas, his eyes have already closed in sleep and his breathing deep and even.

Farkas had told her to go back to sleep. Now that she is wide awake, Libitania begins to doubt if she will ever know true rest again. Not with her thoughts bothering her like a hive of bees.

Still, she closes her eyes and finds sleep.


	53. Chapter 52

Diamond didn't know what to do after Libitania left Jorrvaskr.

She can't say pandemonium broke loose, but there was just an unsettling silence as the Companions tried to wrap their heads around everything. Her heart sank when she beheld Malick's face: even he was pale with shock, and even fear. He just stared at Zusa's head, as did everyone else, until Libitania left the hall. Then after moments of silence, he turned his head to her, exhaled and just walked back out through the front doors.

Finally, it was Torvar who was brave enough to pick up the head and carry it out towards the back porch, and then the Companions turned to Diamond, as if she knew what to explain to them. But she didn't.

Now sitting at the table, careful to avoid making eye contact with the blood spot from where Zusa's head was, Diamond has all of the members around her – minus Farkas – and she takes a deep breath before she explains.

"Zusa Phoenix kidnapped me while I was in the Brotherhood. She forced me to stay in hopes it would turn me over to her side. Meanwhile, she sent a note out to Astrid, the former leader of the Brotherhood, saying that I have changed sides. And in her rage, when I returned, Astrid crossed me and practically sent me to my death, but then Maro betrayed her and sent his men out after the Sanctuary, with the help of her Faceless Assassins. Two of the memers tried to help me escape, Malick was one of them, and the other –" Diamond folds her lips in and sighs. "The other did not survive. And I thought she had killed Malick too, until now. But when I returned to the Sanctuary, everything was destroyed that day. _Everything_. And three years later, Kodlak found me, and the rest is history."

"But what is Libitania's connection?" Ria asks softly.

"Libitania – Libby – was in the Faceless before she even became known as the greatest thief. She was there since she was a child, and moved to Riften once she found the Guild, the home of her father. After that day, I swore I would do whatever it took to take Zusa down, but in reality, I was so scared, so afraid that all I really did was hide away from her and never have to see her face again."

"And Malick is the one you came inside with?" Vilkas asks.

Diamond's heart feels heavy, but she nods her head. "He found me after all this time and we needed to catch up. A lot."

"So, what happens now?" Njada asks.

"I don't know." Diamond shakes her head. "From what I've gathered, the news has to have spread around all of Skyrim by now. The Queen of the Underworld, slaughtered by her protégé. I just wonder if she spared the rest of the Faceless Assassins."

"Why?" asks Aela. "They are all killers who chose that life."

"Not all by will, Aela, mind you." Diamond boldly speaks. "Some of their stories, you wouldn't even believe."

"Frankly you have no room to speak, either." Athis adds. "Some could say that because we're all Companions, that if one dies, we all die. And you know for a fact that is not fair."

A heavy silence falls as the two give a glare at one another, neither backing down.

"As much as I hate to say it," Torvar says, "just from the look on Libitania's face, I don't think she spared anyone."

Diamond doesn't believe so either. She doesn't even want to believe that the person who came into this hall was Libitania. That was someone else. Someone lethal, not her friend. Or rather, former friend, but now, Diamond just can't accept that.

Libitania can't be her former friend, after all, she did this for Diamond, she just knew it. Why else would she present the head to her? Why else would she come to the hall? To Whiterun? Unfortunately, her timing could not be more off, as Kodalk's funeral is today, something she completely forgot about as her thoughts were dominated with Malick.

She has to see Libitania now, that is granted Farkas isn't with her when she does. But where could she have gone? She can't go to Drangonsreach with Nassari, her home was burned . . . Could she have gone back to Riften? No, not with her being so close to Jorrvaskr. So she's still in the area. Somewhere.

Lifting from her seat, Diamond excuses herself, ignoring Vilkas' offers to company her. She walks towards the front doors, still not ready to confront Zusa's head just sitting on a chair around the back porch.

Pushing through the doors, she takes a deep inhale of air, reminding herself that this is indeed a reality, somehow. She closes her eyes and leans against the wooden pillar, crossing her arms. Somehow, things seem, lighter. While she didn't get the vengeance she wanted, she knew in her heart she wouldn't have been able to face Zusa, possibly never. Just cower for the rest of her life while the echoes of Zusa's presence still hovers over her like a haunting raven.

All she really has is the cruel pleasure of imagining what exactly Libitania did to her while she mutilated her ass, and probably destroyed the Faceless Headquarters. Diamond wouldn't be surprised if Libitania tore it down brick by brick herself. Oddly she hopes that Libitania did spare _some_ of the members. Much of them weren't all bad.

A small smile creeps onto her lips as she remembers Miss Lusha, or Lulu, as the members called her. The crazy, old woman who saw visions of the future. And there was also Kiara, the Khajiit with amazing lean legs. Most of the members were surprisingly nice; all the more reason why she needs to speak with Malick.

They were really the only family he had, no matter how dysfunctional they were. And to have Libitania come in and just eradicate them all . . .

Opening her eyes, Diamond blinks as her eyes focus forward and she freezes when she sees Malick just head, down the three steps, speaking with another woman.

A beautiful woman for that matter, wearing a dress of fine make, but designed for that of a courtesan with its fitted body and low neckline to reveal a full cleavage. It's icy blue color contrasts heavily with her green eyes, and her blonde hair is set in curls around her shoulders, an even finer hair comb pinning back one side of her hair.

As the men and woman walk by, guard or common folk, they all stare at her, eyes widening, mouths opening and tongues dropping to the ground. Diamond would've walked down those steps and shoved the girl afar had it not been for the tickle of familiarity in her mind.

The woman's eyes flick to her, and her perfectly shaped brows lift. Her eyes go back to Malick and he turns to look to Diamond, her heart skipping a beat. He turns back and nods, as if to confirm something. The woman's eyes light up with excitement and Diamond watches Malick's shoulders hop as he chuckles, the woman even daring to put her hand on his folded, smiling to reveal a mouth of perfect, white teeth.

Just as Diamond is about to descend the steps and grab the woman's hair, her eyes suddenly focus on the woman's eyes, and she finds them outlined in kohl, like a cat eye.

Diamond's eyes widen and she inhales through her nose.

Eloria.

Gods, she, she hasn't seen Eloria since their dinner together in the Faceless Keep. She made it out alive, or perhaps Libby spared her. But judging from just how calm and well-dressed and clean she is, she couldn't have been there when Libitania killed Zusa. So then, where has she been?

She looks amazing as always, her body seems to more muscled

Eloria and Malick are still talking, Malick still with his arms crossed and still ignoring Diamond's presence. He nods here and there, Eloria doing most of the talking. She had to be telling him what happened to the Faceless, so all Diamond could do is continually, patiently, torturously wait until the two are done talking.

Diamond knew she was probably rushing Eloria with her presence, and while she knew she could go down there and join, it just wasn't her place. Let them have their talk.

432134567890- slight movement behind Eloria's skirt makes Diamond look twice. She carefully angles her head to peer down and then Malick's head angles too. Then Diamond can't stop her gasp when a small child – practically a spitting image of Eloria – steps out from behind her skirt, holding a small gathering of yellow flowers in her hand. Eloria sets her hand on the girl's head, and smiles, speaking to the girl while gesturing to Malick.

Malick crouches down, folding his hands together and the little girl smiles, shyly cowering behind Eloria's skirt. She has on a cute dress of cobalt, her blonde hair set in pigtails with curls winding down. Her eyes are a stunning turquoise blue, her face sprinkled with freckles. Cute, and still stunning.

Eloria bends down, picks up the girl and holds her in her arms. She speaks to the girl and she little child then extends her arm, giving Malick the flowers. Diamond watches as Malick plays coy, setting his hand on his chest in flattery and taking a singly flower, and tucking it behind her ear. The little girl giggles, shyly burrowing into Eloria's neck. Eloria giggles and resumes speaking with Malick.

Diamond can't believe it. Eloria is a mother – no wonder Libby spared her. Or, no, from how old the daughter seems, around four or five, Eloria had to have escaped or somehow left the Faceless and had a kid. She had to be married, unless she's been reduced to a courtesan to make money . . . No, no. Eloria was a smart woman. Diamond just can't believe it.

Finally, the two nod and Malick this time, is actually the one who steps forward to embrace Eloria in a hug, Eloria angling herself so the child doesn't get squished between. Malick lowers his head, speaking to the child who only giggles, hiding behind the flowers and nods her head to whatever it is Malick says. He tickles her side, and she giggles with Eloria. More words are exchanged and finally Eloria turns away with the child and heads down the steps.

Diamond straightens as Malick approaches, his hands casually in his pockets. He has a small smile on his lips, well aware of Diamond's mood and flood of questions begging to break past her lips.

He comes up to her and holds out his hand. She takes it without word and lets Malick guide her towards the back porch of the hall, still on edge about Zusa's head still there, but less afraid with Malick leading the way. He rounds them towards the back, past the porch towards the small watchtower and they take shelter there, Malick interlocking their fingers and leaning against the stone balcony, looking out onto the plains.

"So what happened?" Diamond asks, not wanting to wait.

Malick shrugs. "Eloria apparently got out. She's _been _out for years now. She settled down and got married."

"And her child?"

"About four years old, Eveline is her name."

"She's so cute, and beautiful."

Malick chuckles. "Yeah, she is."

"So what is she doing now? Because I want a dress like hers." Diamond asks, still waiting for her moment to ask him what happened to the Faceless. Still, she leans against him, forcing herself to bite back her giggle as Malick's arm wraps around her, his hand taking her fingers and resting against her hip.

"You couldn't work something like that even on your best day." Malick amuses, smiling through the wince at the pinch Diamond inflicts. "She's an apprentice in Arcadia's Cauldron, married to a wealthy merchant. Apparently they've been living in the Cloud District."

"She's been here this whole time and I've never known?!"

"It's not like you actively went looking for you. She was surprised to see you here too."

"What did she say?"

"Not much."

Diamond pouts as she bumps Malick with her hip. The small pink in his cheeks is enough to inform her of the conversation that might've been exchanged.

"So what happened?" Diamond asks.

"Apparently, around dawn, Libitania came to the keep and quite literally slashed her way through. Zusa had over a thousand members _before_ she sent Libitania to Cidhna Mines, after her attack from before, there were only five hundred left."

"She cut the numbers in half?" Diamond exhales. She never knew the exact estimate, and now she wishes she didn't. Libby destroyed the Faceless just as Ulfric Stormcloak slaughtered those six hundred Khajiit rebels. But Libitania is not Ulfric, but does that make the situations different?

"Yeah, and apparently, she only spared those she knew. By that I mean only Kiara. Eloria was already gone. Everyone else, they were too loyal to let live." Malick says, his voice going deeper. "They say that you could hear the screams from miles away, and the odor of blood was so pungent, carried across on the wind. Libitania then proceeded to set the whole house on fire, burning every last little possession that Zusa had, and letting those who weren't dead from their injurie to die by the flames. After the entire place was gone, Libitania went to the bank and transferred all of Zusa's money to each of the surviving members, including me, but none for herself. She dropped the body to the guards in the closest hold, Solitude, and that was the only money she kept."

"How much was it?"

"Let me put it this way: if all of the jarls pooled fortunes together, it would still look like chump change compared to how much Zusa is worth." Diamond swallows. Something in her gut told her that Libitania didn't keep that money either. Money isn't much of a problem for her anymore, and since she already gave money to the former members, could she have possibly given this to the rebels in support of Erelia Glendeylin?

Diamond looks to him, and boldly touches Malick's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

There's a moment of silence, Malick only staring into the open field. "I've always had this, fantasy that one day I would be brave enough to take Zusa out. But deep down, I knew I couldn't. I wasn't good enough. While I would've liked to ensue my own personal vengeance, in truth I knew it was Libitania's anyway." He lowers his gaze, his shoulders relaxing. "Now . . . now it's almost unbelievable. I'm actually free. I'm free from her, from my debt, from the life that damned me for years."

"I thought you loved what you did, avenging women of Skyrim, giving them a voice, a fighting chance." Diamond softly reminds.

"We did, but after you left, we became no better than the Brotherhood. I thought that with this guild, at least we wouldn't be like the others. We'd just be taking down other criminals, not just eliminating them because they were competition." He says quietly. "It just, needs time to settle in. To actually trust and believe that I'm free. Because now I need to think about what the hell I'm going to do with my life."

Free. Freedom. The one thing that Libby always pined for. The reason she took the contract with the twisted prince, the reason why she dared to fight Zusa despite the death looming over her. The thing that drove her to keep fighting and to keep perusing.

The irony in the situation is, peculiar. Libby was so bent on gaining back her freedom from everything: her debt of Skyirm, her debt to Zusa, to the prince. With everything gone, perhaps she doesn't know what to do with herself either. Diamond's heart stammers when she thinks of Libby joining with the rebels. Why would she take on another burden when the possibility of a normal life is at her feet?

"Was a normal life an expectation that you didn't believe?" Diamond asks.

A simple tilt of his head. "Of a sort. Most of it was believing that I was destined for something more than just working in a shop selling food, or clothes, or ale or potions. I guess some part of me wants to keep that alive; because I have these skills, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy the thrill of it. But deep down, I knew it wouldn't be a good fit forever." He looks to her. "So, what happens now?"

She doesn't know. She never knew. Speaking in terms of reality, Kodlak's funeral is in a matter of hours. And once that's done, his death and absence will have settled over her, and Jorrvaskr. They'll need a new Harbinger, something Diamond is by far not ready to face yet. No one would run the Companions better than him. No one ever will.

But what is she to do with herself. When Kodlak was here, she didn't mind going on missions, traveling around Skyrim and getting paid to fight for good, but now, does she want to keep doing that for the rest of her life; until the gods call her to Sovngarde? Now, now this doesn't feel so right; but it could just be grief.

"I don't know." She sadly mumbles, her voice sounding distant.

The warmth of Malick's hand permeates her clothing, flaming her skin hot as he pulls her close. "Well, whatever life has to throw at us, I can only hope we can do it together."

Diamond looks to him, hiding her shiver as he kisses her shoulder. "You could join the Companions."

Malick chuckles. "I don't think so."

"Better than standing over a hot stove and brewing soup all day." She smiles.

Malick nods his head and smiles. "I suppose, but that just isn't the life for me."

"Just a suggestion."

"Will you be okay?" Malick asks, resting his chin on her neck.

"I will. With time." she answers, meaning more than just coming to terms with Zusa's death. "Where will you go?"

"Anywhere you do. Now that I have you, I will not let you go again, unless you ask me to." Another kiss on her shoulder, then another on her neck, then another just below her ear.

Diamond stiffens, taking a deep breath to calm her tingling skin. She turns to face Malick, her arms wrapping around his torso, exhaling as he embraces her, his lips pressing into her hair.

She angles her head up, staring into those eyes that could make her feel like floating in an ocean. After a slow blink, she pushes on her toes and finds his lips. His hand move sup to hold the back of her head, his fingers entangling in her hair. Slowly she can feel him kissing away the questions and aches within her, if only for a moment.

The sound of the doors opening hits her ears. Naturally she would've stepped back from Malick immediately, but she just wants to hold on this feeling for a heartbeat longer. When she does pull away, Malick smiles and strokes her cheek with his callus thumb. He blinks and his eyes flick upwards to look behind her, and his smile slowly wans away.

Diamond turns to follow his stare.

Vilkas.

The world suddenly slows, and her ribs suddenly feel too small to contain her rapidly beating heart.

He's standing there with a mug and a small plate of her favorite dinner meal. Numbness prickles along her entire body, and her ears become muted with the sound of her pounding blood.

He just stares at them, his mouth slightly agape. She needs to say something, but what can she say at all?

"Vilkas." Her lips say, but they don't even feel like hers. She can't even hear herself with her ears muted.

As if snapping himself out of the shock, closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and sets the food and mug on the table. Zusa's head still a few feet off on a stool.

"Just a friend." He speaks, Diamond nearly shaking at how hoarse his voice is, like gravel. "Right."

Without another word, he walks back inside, the door shutting too quietly behind him.

Silence. So palpable and thick it's nearly suffocating. Malick leans his back against the wall. He lowers his head and his shoulders slowly rises and falls. He looks to her, still locked on the door. Her hand comes up and covers her mouth, and tears stream down her cheeks. She leans against the opposite wall, standing next to Malick now feeling so wrong.

"I'm sorry." he mumbles, but doesn't make any advancement to touch her.

Torn between wrapping herself in his warmth or keeping her distance, Diamond only wipes her eyes and sniffles.

The look on Vilkas' face. He looked as if she had just hit him. how can she talk to him about this? They had their moments, but they never really kissed like she has with Malick. She refused to kiss him _because_ of Malick.

Her eyes find his hand through her tears, and she reaches out, grasping only his forefinger. Malick's other fingers layer over hers, and Diamond strokes his finger with her thumb.

She knew the decision. She knew it for years since they first met. And despite what she would have to do, for once, her heart is in the right place, with assurance.

"I need to help prepare Kodlak's body for the funeral." Diamond says. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

Malick nods, and Diamond spares a quick peck before turning away, releasing his hand and heading back to the hall. Malick doesn't follow her. In fact, when she turns back, the watchtower is already vacant; as if he never was. Looking to the table with Zusa's head, nausea clenches her stomach, and impulsively, with anger fueling her, she grabs the head by the hair and heads back into the hall.

Without looking around, she throws the head into the fire. Remembering the words of a fire spell, she opens her hand and aims it at the head. The head erupts into a flame, the wave of heat making sweat materialize on her forehead. Then it slowly burns away, the skin peeling off like paper, the hair falling into ash.

Diamond looks to her right and finds Aela, a fork stuck in the middle of her chicken. Diamond decides to collect only Aela and possibly Eorlund to help prepare Kodlak's body for the funeral. He's been in the Hall of the Dead for a couple of days now, and hopefully the priestesses have done a decent job of making him look, not so mutilated.

"We need to prepare." Diamond says gruffly.

"As you wish." Aela says, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "But before we begin, perhaps Farkas would like to help us."

"I don't know where Farkas is."

Aela only gives a small smile as she gets up from the table and leads Diamond out towards the front doors. Opening the doors, she takes an inhale as she finds Farkas leaning against the stone wall bordering Jorrvaskr, a different kind of broadsword strapped to his back. It's of a certain made that she can't place. Could it be that he . . .?

His eyes flick to her, and she almost steps back from the deadly predatory gaze she sees within them. Looking at her like she's a piece of meat he wants to rip and devour with his wolf teeth. Pure hatred and anger and spite.

"Where have you been?" Aela asks as she approaches.

"Away." He coldly replies. How is it his voice sounds so different? Has she just not heard his voice in a while?

"Care to divulge into that?" Aela asks impatiently.

"No."

Diamond takes a small step back, feeling the tensions building like a big ball of wire. Built like a battering ram, Farkas is like the stone to Aela's beautiful, brash fire. She hears Aela growl, but just as quick the huntress turns away and starts to walk towards the Hall of the Dead.

"Fine." She speaks. "Let's just get Kodlak."

Diamond hurries up to her, leaving Farkas at her back. She almost didn't feel comfortable having him behind her in worry that he will drive a dagger into her spine. So she keeps up her pace with Aela, letting her hands fall to her side – close to the dagger strapped to her thigh.

The walk to the Hall of the Dead was unnervingly quiet, even worse when they entered and Aela asked the priestess to lead them to Kodlak. As they follow the woman down the corridors and under archways, Diamond could feel Farkas' stare burning in the back of her head. The hall reeks of dead bodies and gathered dust, resulting in an air so thick that she can feel it contents scrape her throat.

Diamond doesn't even want to imagine how many bodies were put here because of Libby, or how many in any other halls of any other holds. After hearing the truth behind Kodlak's death, and after seeing Libby bring in Zusa's head, seeing the creature that she is becoming, Diamond knew what she could, and to do. Libby was on a dangerous road where there will be no return. She's letting anger fuel her fire, an anger that blurs the lines of justice, vengeance, and savagery.

So as they enter the private chamber the priestesses sectioned off just for Kodlak, Diamond stops before the threshold, after Aela has walked in and says, "I want you to bring Libby to the funeral tonight."

Silence, but her statement brought enough surprise to have Farkas raise his brows and Aela turn to her with a confused expression.

"What makes you so sure she'll come?" Farkas replies, his voice still laced with a deadly calm. Aela is keeping close attention on him.

"Because she needs this. She _wants_ this."

"Frankly I don't think it's fair for you to speak on her behalf, considering you've completely turned your back on her." He growls.

"I understand the weight of my mistakes –"

"No you don't." Farkas roughly interjects. "You still understand so little, Diamond, even with the training we have provided, even with the tutoring and lessons, you still fail to see the truth in fits of rage."

"Like Libby has room to speak." Diamond dares to bark back. "You have any idea how many lives she has taken within the past months, weeks?"

"But still she delivered justice to those who betrayed her."

"Justice and vengeance are two different things, Farkas." says Aela.

"You have no room to speak, Huntress. Considering the reckless actions you two beguiled after Skjor's death."

Diamond can feel Aela stiffen, her throat vibrating with a guttural growl.

"We are no different from one another." He then turns away and begins to walk back towards the entrance of the Hall of the Dead. "I'll if Libitania wishes to come, your answer with be decided when or if she decides to arrive."

With that, he leaves and doesn't look back. Diamond turns to Aela, who only gives a tight-lipped expression. She ushers Diamond into the chamber. Diamond follows, and moments later they are in a tiny room with only one table set in its middle, a blanket covering the body. Even with the reality that's shattered her world, even with the fact that she cannot deny, Diamond still hopes that Kodlak could not be under the blanket. That somehow, someway blessed by the gods that he has somehow been returned to this world. Returned to her.

But alas, then the priestess removes the blanket, too gently, frankly, Kodlak's newly healed face is revealed. And her heart breaks all over again.

The priestesses did a wonderful job in undoing the damage that Zusa had done to him. Compared to how . . . damaged, he was before, the simple scars here and there across his face are absolutely nothing.

His features are softened into a relative handsomeness for his age, relaxed as if he really is just sleeping. Somehow they gained new armor for him and have his hands set resting together on his sternum, his hair falling over the edges of the table. Diamond doesn't even know how they did put him together again with what she saw.

But here is her Harbinger again, whole, and forever asleep like a doll. Diamond can't help her eyes as they water as she extends a hand out and touches her Harbinger's scared face. Vilkas was right. He looks so peaceful, and he is in a safe place. She nearly shivers when she feels his skin cold to the touch.

"Do you think I made the right decision?" she quietly asks Aela.

The Huntress turns from speaking with the priestess, giving her a nod to leave. Once the doors close she gives her full attention to Diamond.

"Do you think it was right to invite her? After everything I've done?" she turns to Kodlak, removing her hand.

"I'm afraid I cannot speak on your, or her behalf, Diamond. You know her more than I, and you said so yourself that she needed this."

"What is she doesn't come?"

"That is her decision to make. But really I think you yourself knew why you asked her in the first place."

"Kodlak would've done the same."

"I can't speak for the old man, and you knew him far more than I. Who knows, perhaps it was his influence that drove you to speak those words of invitation. Bur you've now lair your cards on the table, now it is Libitania's move."

"I suppose." Diamond sighs.

"Do you hope she will come?"

Diamond is silent for a moment before she opens her quivering lips.

"I don't know."

* * *

Libitania sits on the stool, nervously twiddling her thumbs as she watches the Dunmer male she's come to know as Valil poke an ink-tipped needle into the arm of a hulking male of an Orc. He grunts, gritting teeth and taking deep breaths, but he exhales and swallows back his pain.

She's been sitting here beside Valil for hours now, watching him and his artistic hand bring forth to life ink art upon multiple bandits, etching stories and designs and insignias into their skin with black ink. Pictures and words writing in the Ancient Falmer Language, a tribute to Erelia and the Falmer, to mourn and embrace and possibly revive their lost culture.

At this bandit camp to which she and Nassari and Farkas have been staying in since her rescue, she stumbled upon Valil by accident while delivering soup to him when he failed to turn up for dinner. She knocked at first, and then came an urgent sounding, "What?" and she eased open the door, claiming she was to deliver dinner.

It was then that she saw a female Imperial, half naked and sprawled across on her back atop a workbench. Valil was seated before her, and it took Libitania all but one heartbeat to notice the flattened needles, the small cauldron-shaped cat of dark ink, the rag soaked with ink and blood, and the tracings of a tattoo snaking from the Imperial's left breast down her ribs and right to her hip bone.

Panic and worry set in as Valil rose up from his seat to collect the tray of food in her hands, but relief flooded her as he smiled gently and asked if she wanted to watch. Without hesitation, Libitania nodded, and after consenting with the female Imperial, Libitania found herself entranced as she watched Valil bring to life the Imperial's life story upon her skin. She even conversed with the Imperial on what the tattoo says, and her heart broke at the story the female Imperial spoke. A life of heartbreak, tragedy and the joy of rebirth.

Her visits have now become regular, to an extent – nearly three times a week – to watch new clients come in, and so see new designs and etchings. When she first asked where they learned the Ancient Language of the Falmer, they claimed Commander Johncar received it directly from the supposed knight-paladin hidden away within the reaches of Skyrim. As proof that the markings were real, Libitania dared to bring her father's journal; of course she didn't show anyone, only used it for her own clarification. And they were right. _Exactly_ right.

She, the princess and Farkas have been at this camp since the execution of Prince Joric, by her hands, and after she strolled into Whiterun bearing Zusa's head. After she left, it was as if she had broken out of a trance, and her body become absolutely exhausted with seconds. Her knees nearly buckled beneath her the moment she stepped out of the gates. Now with her debt paid to Skyrim, and Zusa and the prince dead, she didn't know where else to go.

This camp was relatively, more up on the means of refinement as they actually built log small cottages within the shelter of the trees. Passing by, one could easily mistake them for Alchemist cottages, but nothing more. They were simplistic with most comforts of home.

The reason why she was here tonight being because she needed the company after awakening from another dream that she is still struggling to shake off now. Someone holds her safe and warm. Horses prance through a silver storm. Figures dancing gracefully, across her memory. Far away, long ago, glowing dim as an ember. Things her heart used to know, things that yearn to remember. And a song, someone sings, weaning emptiness of her heart.

Valil starts to trace the outline upon the upper bicep and the Orc grunts from the pain less mild now. Hugging her knees to her chest on the stool she sits, Libitania rests her chin on her knees. Next to Valil, pressed under the small pot of ink is a piece of paper with the runes of the Ancient Falmer, a small cheat sheet to use so that he doesn't mess up. The Orc apparently was writing down the stories of his battles, listing the names of the brothers and sisters he had lost.

It's late in the evening by now, and Libitania would've gone to Nassari to speak about her dream, one of many she has been experiencing this week, but she was busy with meetings tonight, speaking with _this_ camp's general, while staying in touch with Commander Johncar.

Farkas caught her in here several times, but didn't say anything, and then she would return to him once the sun has set and Valil was done cleaning up his workspace.

"Have you considered getting one yourself? Or perhaps you wish to be an apprentice." The Orc asks.

Libitania blinks before looking to him and shakes her head. "Oh no, I'm just here to watch."

The Orc male laughs. "I see that look in your eyes, temptation is obvious like blood on a blade."

Libitania shrugs. "I don't think my life story deserves to be immortalized, especially on my skin. It'd feel like a leech."

"Not something pretty, I'm assuming." The Orc says, grunting heavily as Valil hits a nerve on the inner elbow.

"Not something that should even be spoken of." She mumbles, huddling further into her arms. Valil and the Orc must sense her sorrow, or her anger because they resumed their tasks, quietly, only the crackling of the fire as company.

A few more minutes pass by, or perhaps another hour. Despite her head clearing of the blinding rage, her heart is still heavy with grief and emptiness, and now there's nothing to suppress the icy silence in her heart, nor to fill the hollowness of a purpose missing in her heart. So now the world still seems to be passing by within minutes, or within eons.

Soon a knock comes at the door and Libitania insists Valil to keep working as she gets up and goes to the door, ignoring the complaining in her joints. She opens the door and finds Farkas on the other side. His presence grabs the attention of the Orc, and then of Valil. They spare him a nod of acknowledgement and Farkas quietly asks to speak with Libitania outside.

She follows him outside and he ushers her on a walk. He laces their hands together and Libitania doesn't say anything as he leads to the pond she sprinted to nights before after another nightmare left her shaking.

He sits on the tree stump and he pulls her into his lap. Despite that he brought her out here, she asks, "How did it go at Jorrvaskr?"

"Well I had quite the welcome back," he shrugs. "And as suspected it was a struggle not to splay Diamond's blood all over the stones." Libitania pinches his side and he chuckles. "But I was given an interesting proposition."

Libitania looks up to him. Farkas sighs.

"She wanted me to ask you, if you would attend Kodlak's funeral." Libitania angles her head to look at him, her eyes wide. Her mouth is slightly agape, about to further interrogate, but Farkas adds. "I told them it would be up to you to decide."

Libitania closes her mouth, swallows and says, "Diamond asked you directly?"

"Yes."

"Did she say anything else?"

"Only things that were exchanged between our bickering." Farkas admits.

Libby rests her head on his shoulder, sighing through her nose. "I don't know if I can face them. Not after what I did."

"You mean after you went there with Zusa's head."

"Would they even allow me near?"

"You didn't kill Kodlak, Libby. They have nothing to be upset about, nor nothing to hold against you." Farkas reminds, taking her chin and tilting it up to stare at her. "If anything, they should welcome you with open arms again. Especially after you avenged Kodlak's death."

"Your opinions have become too strong, in regards to me, Farkas."

"I'm sorry, Libby, but it is just how I feel."

"If you let your anger guide you, it'll only lead to more heartbreak. You'll run everything dry until there is nothing left. I know this for a fact."

She feels Farkas swallow with regret from her words, a little harsher than how she meant it. But it is true; her anger was what drove her to torture the prince without remorse, to take down the entire guild of the Faceless, and even defeat Zusa Phoenix, while also sparing time to make her pay for everything she had done. But now, she's exhausted everything that was burdening her in her life, or well, most of it, so now she has nothing left.

"So will you attend?" Farkas asks.

"Perhaps once the ceremony is over. I just don't feel comfortable being in front of them."

"I suppose that's fair, so long as you attend. I know he would want you there." Farkas says, resting his chin on her head.

"I just . . . there are some words that I wish to speak with him in private."

"I understand." He rubs her shoulder and kisses her forehead. "What shall we do after? Have you given it any more thought?"

Libitania swallows and sighs. "I have. And I can't." She feels Farkas shift and she leans back to look up to him. "I can't leave, Farkas. I just can't. This is my home. And I can't leave."

Farkas sighs. "I understand. I just hate to see you in such pain, to continually live on the land that has destroyed so much."

"It's not the land, Farkas. It's the people."

"Does this mean you'll become part of the war?" he dares ask.

"What will you do if I were to say yes?"

"My heart will grow heavy, and I will become wrecked with worry – but you are my heart, beloved. And I will follow and support you wherever you may go."

Her throat constricts and she kisses Farkas as her eyes water. "I'm sorry." she mumbles.

"For what?"

Libitania sniffs, wiping her nose with the sleeve of her tunic. "Because I am a gods-damned mess." she mumbles. "I feel so lost."

Deep down, she knew what she had to do. She knew what she had to become in order to fill the void and make for all of those missing pieces of herself, of her pass.

She just hopes that she'll be ready to face it.


	54. Chapter 53

Today was the day. The day where Diamond had to face the hardest and worst of all thing since Kodlak's death.

At least there wouldn't be any bullshit ceremonies like for other deaths of noble warriors. Kodlak didn't like that stuff much, but still had respects to the gods. He wanted things to be quick and simple, and the celebrate his acceptance in Sovngarde with ale and songs of triumph.

But would he even be accepted? He still had his beast blood.

Diamond takes a deep breath and exhales. _One obstacle at a time_, she says. _One at a time._

Standing in front of the mirror hanging on the inside of the wardrobe door, Diamond straps her glass Warhammer across her back, adjusting her chitin gauntlets and tightening the belt of daggers around her waist. She's tempted to pull her hair back, as it's long enough to be touching her collarbones. Kodlak always liked her with shorter hair, said it made her look older, more mature.

She folds in her bottom lip, taking sudden inhales through her nose. Turning her head, she finds a pair of scissors on the shelf inside the wardrobe, tucked behind some old shoes and some scarves. Her old shoes and scarves – she had already packed up Kodlak's things. There was no one else to do the job. No one; at least no one she would allow, and nobody protested. They knew what Kodlak meant to her, and what she meant to him. Some of them even resented her for it, but now, it's the only thing she has left.

Off to the side of the wardrobe, there are the two trunks that she had filled with Kodlak's belongings. Things that she wouldn't need, and that would forever be encased in glass in Dragonsreach: Kodlak's armor, his favorite sword, dagger, Warhammer, and shield. She wasn't exactly comfortable handing over his things, even to the jarl, but what other option is there? They can't stay here, and she certainly can't keep them in her room, or at least, not some of the bigger things.

The thought of someone else touching Kodlak's things, packing them away like any other things made Diamond wild with rage and grief.

The only thing she didn't touch was his desk. Every book, every paper, every pen and book and map is still scattered along the desk as if the Harbinger had only stepped out for a moment.

Diamond turns her head to look and finds the desk in the light of the sconces on the wall. The shelves are still packed with books, some alchemy ingredients left in bowls and pushed into one corner, the map of Skyrim still spread across the entire surface of the desk.

After a blink or two, Diamond carries a wastebasket over to the mirror. With a deep breath, Diamond takes the scissors and carefully measures by the length of her skin, her cheeks and the back of her neck. Another deep breath, and she closes the scissors around the ends of her hair. Blonde tips fall into the basket. She snips off another set of strands, nearly perfectly even with the first. She continues this process, and by the end of it, there's a small gathering of blonde hair in the basket.

Ruffling her fingers, Diamond releases any other loose strands before she brushes it out. Much better. Kodlak was right, as always, she looks better with short hair.

One final glance, and Diamond is out of the Kodlak's chambers and walks down the hall and up the stairs to the dining room. as she walks up the steps, she just sees Ria walking out towards the Skyforge.

As Diamond walks over to the doors, she stops by the table to grab a small sweet roll. Her heart aches for Malick to be here, so she won't have to feel so alone. But she has to remember that she is not alone, she has her clan, her Companions. Still, having him here would be a form of comfort. She can at least wishfully think that he's watching from the shadows, expertly hidden from the eyes and noses of the Circle members.

After her final chomp, Diamond walked up the steps and out towards the back porch.

The moon is overhead, casting the world in silver. Diamond sees the members of the Circle up above, already surrounding the forge. The rest of the members are standing at the bottom of the steps, while young male priests carry Kodlak's body on a bejeweled carrier, his arms still folded like in the Hall of the Dead, his favorite sword between them.

Diamond walks up, and the members part easily. She follows the priests without saying a word. Some of them look to her, and barely acknowledge her. Once they're at the top of the stairs, Diamond can see Jarl Balgruuf has joined them, along with Danica, the priestess of the Temple of Kynerath. They spare her a nod, and an expression of grief. Diamond returns the nod. Down below she can see a majority of the citizens of Whiterun starting to gather, borne in black and carrying many bouquets of flowers, the majority of them Kodlak's favorite. Diamond almost cried right there, to see the community gathered, united by the loss of a great warrior.

Her eyes scan the crowd for any signs of Libby, but she didn't recognize anyone. Her chest grows heavy, and she turns to find Farkas. She passes by Eorlund, and briefly takes in how the forge has been decorated so nicely. To those who don't live in the city, they wouldn't think it was a forge, what with the lighted candles, and red swath banners swooping across the base, and wreaths of snowberries winding and wrapping here and there.

Kodlak's bed has been bordered with thorns and roses, and the banners of Whiterun are standing proud behind the members of the Companions. The rest join everyone up top, and as Diamond takes her place in between Farkas and Aela, she quietly leans in and asks him, "Did you tell her?"

"Yes." He answers coldly.

"And?"

"She'll come when she can."

"But she's coming? For sure?"

For the first time since Libby had been dragged to Drangonsreach dungeon, Farkas looks to her, and his coldness ebbs only slightly. "Yes."

Diamond nods and takes a deep breath. Her eyes find Vilkas and she almost turns around and heads back into Jorrvaskr. But no, this isn't about Vilkas, this isn't about her. This is for Kodlak.

And perhaps it's time she stops running from problems . . . She quiets her thoughts as she hears Eorlund begin the ceremony. The citizens are down below, holding candles and flowers, while the Companions are up top, with Kodlak.

"Who will start?" he asks quietly.

"I will." Aela volunteers, but her voice is much more hushed than usual. She approaches the forge, taking a deep breath, her attention solely on Kodlak. "Before the ancient flame,"

"We grieve." Diamond says, her voice intermixed with the others gathered.

"At this loss," says Eorlund.

"We weep." The group chimes together, a few hitched breaths here and there, and already Diamond can hear sniffles and sobbing of the citizens and a couple of the members.

"For the fallen," Vilkas speaks.

"We shout!" the members say with more passion.

"And for ourselves," says Farkas.

"We take our leave."

Then the time comes for each of the members to speak their minds about Kodlak, Eorlund was the first to start. They wisely spiked Diamond. Her actions enough spoke widely of her feelings for the Harbinger. But she was surprised that Vilkas decided to speak as well. A couple of jokes were put here and there, a few soft laughs were allowed. Then the time came for Aela to take the torch and burn the body.

She approaches closer, and ignites the strand of dry kindling leading up to Kodlak's dais. Diamond watches the fire consume the thorn branch before it licks the bed and easily devours Kodlak's form. The banners burn, the kindling burns, and berries burn; everything. Diamond's feet walk up and she glances at Aela before watching the flames silhouette Kodlak's form.

They watch him burn for, minutes, an hour or two? She can't remember. But she does feel the shift in the air, a form of, release, as the twigs crumple upon him and the banner evaporate into nothing. She feels something lift as the smoke plumes it way into the sky and the stars twinkle dimly.

"His spirit has departed." Aela says softly, Diamond not missing the flow of tears in her eyes. She's never really seen Aela cry before, not even for Skjor's death. But now, she can see sadness flow form everyone. "Members of the Circle, let us withdraw to the Underforge, to grief out last together."

Nods here and there, and the Companions descend the stairs and allow the citizens of Whiterun to walk up and pay their respects, lay down their candles and flowers, and sob and weep and woe.

As Diamond is watching the crowd file up the stairs, she scans for any signs of Libby. She can only really look for signs of black hair and clothing. What would she ever say to her? Will Libby even accept her apology? Will she even talk to her? Diamond almost moan at how their roles have been reversed. Now Libby could be the one wanting nothing to do with Diamond now after the betrayal, and, abandonment.

With her thoughts tangling, she sighs and continues watching the crowd. Then Eorlund comes up next to her, his face illuminated by the rays of moonlight. "Would you mind doing me a favor, Diamond?"

"Of course Eorlund."

"Before the funeral, Vilkas came and gave me the fragments of Wuuthrad. I am going to be preparing them for mounting again, but there is another piece. One that Kodlak always kept close to himself. Would you mind going to his chambers and bringing them back for me?"

Diamond gives a stiff nod. "It would be my pleasure."

"Thank you. I'm not sure I'm the best one to go through his things. I appreciate it."

"But may I ask something of you?" Eorlund nods and Diamond leans in. "I'm expecting Libby to come, but I'm not so sure now. Would you just keep an eye out for her? Let me know if she arrives?"

"Of Crouse." He nods

A small smile on Diamond's part, and she nods in return before heading into the hall. She had forgotten; after killing Kodlak, the Silver Hand stole the fragments of the great battle axe. While she laid in bed buried in her grief, Vilkas and a couple other members of the Companions went and slaughtered the main base of the Silver Hand, retrieving the fragments in the process. It all seems like a blur of days; she didn't even notice the pieces missing on the wall mounts in the dining hall.

Making her way around towards the front doors, Diamond still watches the citizens with any familiar signs of Libby. Nothing.

The warmth of the hall welcomes her, feeling like home again. Something that had felt so lost since Kodlak died. Her feet bring her down the steps to the living quarters and straight towards Kodlak's chambers. She's been living in the chambers for, months . . . perhaps even years since she joined; how is it she never really saw the piece?

Well, she didn't even know about it, so she never really had a reason to search anyway. It could be in the drawers of his end tables or such.

Diamond pushes open the doors and feels the scent of his room waft into her nose. she immediately turns to the end table. Knowing Kodlak, Eorlund said he kept it close to him, so it's be in here somewhere.

Opening the drawer, she rummages through some papers until she felt the sharp prick of a fragment tucked underneath. She carefully takes the piece but pauses, and beholds the papers beneath the piece. They are covered in scribblings in Elsweyr – and Hammerfall, High Rock, Black Marsh, Morrowind, Cyrodill, Valenwood, the Summerset Isles. All languages of Tamriel.

Looking around, she attempts to pull out the papers, but finds them weighted down by his journal. Immediately she drops the papers back into the drawer and shuts it. Despite her curiosity, she would fight it. Anything with his journal, his most personal and private thoughts . . . even she isn't ready or worthy to read through it.

Making her way back outside, Diamond finds most of the crowd has dissipated, though she can hear their sobs in the distance. After their contribution, it is the time to go and to grieve with the family.

As Diamond is about to walk up the steps towards Eorlund, she stops dead in her tracks.

She wordlessly beholds Princess Nassari approaching the steps of the hall, borne in black clothing, a veil over her eyes, and behind her . . . behind her.

Libby.

Diamond's knees nearly buckle as they approach, Nassari leading them, Libitania almost, cowering behind her. She wears a mourning dress that still looks extravagant despite its purpose. And a veil, a veil that stretches down to her feet, and is held in place by a silver circlet.

As they pass the crowd and members, they spare nods of acknowledgement, and Diamond could see Libby's eyes rest on her for the briefest of seconds.

Her heart skipped at the sight of the scar trailing down Libby's eye. Though barely visible, Diamond could spot that a mile away, since she is the one who inflicted it upon her.

The door to the Underforge groans and out steps the members of the Circle, probably to collect Diamond, but stopped when they saw Nassari and Libby mounting the steps to Skyforge. Farkas immediately follows, though keeping a wise distance behind. Aela and Vilkas follow as well, though mostly to make sure Libitania doesn't hurt herself or anyone around.

And Diamond . . . Diamond just watches. Watches without taking a step, almost cowardly as she watches the two meet Kodlak at the top.

* * *

Even though they didn't recognize her in her current attire, the night watch in the Cloud District didn't stop her as she passes through towards Jorrvaskr. Course, that could just be because she has Princess Nassari with her. Shortly after Farkas told her about Diamond's invitation to the funeral, she went to the princess the next morning. Nassari was more than happy to go there with her, meaning to pay her own respects to the Harbinger, for she sensed he was a good man. Libitania did too; which is why she couldn't turn away this offer.

She knew the hall would be swarming with people, but those who were already on their way home quickly look away as Libitania makes her way there. She doesn't blame them. A black dress and a sheer, flowing black veil spoke enough about her grief, and keeps everyone at a long, long distance. As though her sorrow were a plague.

But she didn't give a damn what the others thought, the mourning clothes weren't for them. She follows Nassari up the steps towards Jorrvaskr's front door. She can only assume Nassari is following the crowd. A simple turn left and there is the great Skyforge, the towering stone eagle illuminated by the moon. Kodlak would not be buried in the Hall of the Dead, nor entombed in the royal mausoleum; inside was for the noble family.

Lifting her head, she sees the burning flame atop. She doesn't dare angle her head otherwise to look for familiar faces. Though she did spot Diamond coming out of the hall, and Libitania nearly fumbled a step. But she continued to follow Nassari, and as they mount the steps, nodding their heads to the remaining members, Libitania hears a sound of stone grinding on stone; but doesn't investigate. Familiar footsteps soon follow them.

While her heart ached at the thought that there would be no headstone to lay flowers, no special mound of dirt set just for Kodlak for her to visit, there really is no better way to send off a warrior like him.

And here she is. At the top, where Eorlundwas just staring at the still burning body, turning his head to acknowledge their existence before stepping away, murmuring appropriate greetings to Nassari.

Nassari is the first to step up to the alter, immediately getting down on her knees and folding her hands together. The skirt of her dress blooms around her and she lowers her head. She pays her respects in Elsweyr, only allowing her and Libitania to understand what she is saying. An honorable tribute, something to keep between only her and Kodlak.

Libitania stares at the mound, the smell of snowberries wafting to her nose, a chill wind rustling her veil. The looming shadow and mass of the stone eagle above threatens to squash her.

When Nassari is finished, she lifts her head, rises to her feet and extends her hand out. She delicately traces a symbol in front of Kodlak, a symbol of the Elsweyr Warrior God. An honor to him in hopes he finds peace in his afterlife.

She steps away, and touches Libitana's shoulder. "I'll be down the steps when you're ready." She speaks in Elsweyr.

Libitania nods and waits until Nassari starts dismounting the steps to approach the dais. Quaking like a leaf, she holds her hands steady and takes a deep breath.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Vilkas asks his brother.

"It feels right." Farkas affirms. Vilkas gives him a questionable glance, and Farkas chuckles. "Can't let it rest, can you?"

"Knock it off you two." Eorlund chimes.

Libitania can feel the warmth of the fire at her front, not too hot to produce sweat, but to wrap around her and feel like a warm embrace from the beloved Harbinger. Her lips quiver.

"Kodlak, I'm going to miss you more than you can even imagine." She whispers to the wind, to the earth, to the body burning before her. "You were like my father, and you accepted me without question; maybe because as Harbinger you saw something in me that's worthwhile."

She sniffles, trying to control her breathing as her shoulders violently shudder. "Now all I have to do is find that thing. I've bene running for so long that I have forgotten what it means to stand and fight." A warm, spirited breeze kicks up and kisses against her face. Libitania feels the tears on her face before she realizes she's crying. She drops to her knees and nearly sets her head on the brim of the dais. "I'll try not to disappoint you."

Raising herself, Libitania steps away from the dais, and she could've sworn the flames have grown taller. Bigger, but still containing a gentleness that is Kodlak.

Her chest aches, but this is the one last thing she had to do, the one last honor she could give the Harbinger.

Libitania tilts her head to the sky, closes her eyes, and begins to sing.

* * *

It was by pure coincidence that the members of the Circle came out of the Underforge by the time Libitania and Nassari were mounting the steps towards Kodlak's shrine. They had been awaiting Diamond to come in, and when she didn't they all left to collect her. But when they came out, they saw Libitania and the princess, and Farkas immediately abandoned the members to follow her and watch her. The others followed probably just to make sure she didn't ruin anything. As if she could.

They left her with appropriate space, waiting like guardians. Diamond came up behind Farkas to watch, but didn't dare to advance. While Farkas almost felt as though he had no right to be here, Kodlak was his Harbinger too.

But what he didn't expect at all was to see Libby lift her face to the moon and sing. Everything seemed to grow still at that point.

It was not in any language that he knew. Now in the common language, or in Elsweyr, or in the language of Hammerhfell or Cyrodill, of anywhere else on the continent.

The language was ancient, each word full of power and rage and agony.

She had a beautiful voice, even if many of the words sounded like half sobs, the vowels stretched by the pangs of sorrow, the consonants hardened by anger. She beat her breast in time, so full of savage grace, so at odds with the black gown and veil she wore. The hair on the back of Farkas' neck stood as the lament pours from her mouth, unearthly and foreign, a song of grief so old that it predated Whiterun itself.

And then the song finishes, its end as brutal and sudden as Kodlak's death had been.

She wipes her eyes and steps away, silent and unmoving.

Slowly, she half turns to him. Her silver circlet shimmers in the moonlight, weighing down a veil so concealing that only those who knew her recognized her.

A breeze whips past them, making the branches of the trees moan and creak, setting her veil and skirts billowing to one side. She gives a sad smile and approaches him.

"I don't think I can ever thank you enough." Her voice hitches.

Farkas smiles and opens his arms for an embrace. Libby walks into them, resting her head on his shoulder. His own eyes watering, his chest aching, he rests his cheek against her veil, kissing through it to her forehead. He holds her close, one hand wrapped at the small of her back, and the other around her neck, stroking her head. They hold one another, feeling her give him a reassuring squeeze that she will be okay . . . eventually.

Footsteps approach them, and Farkas loosens himself form her, tentatively moving his hand under the veil to wipe her tears. He kisses her brow.

They both turn to find Aela. The huntress nods her head, a ghost of a smile on her lips. Then both are relatively surprised when Aela opens her arms to embrace Libitania. The assassin hugs her back without hesitation. "You will always have a home here, Libitania."

"Thank you, Aela."

She turns to Vilkas, who still doesn't say anything. She gives a small nod, and he returns it, even he has the slightest smile, but it's something. Angling her head, she finds Diamond behind Farkas, quiet. Libitania looks past her and finds Nassari waiting at the end of the steps. With a deep breath, she begins to descend, making sure to angle carefully around Diamond. After the way she left Jorrvaskr after delivering Zusa's head, it wouldn't surprise her if Diamond wanted to avoid her.

When she reaches Nassari, the princess asks in Elsweyr, "Are you ready?"

"Not yet." Libitania replies, shaking her head. "I just, need to be alone." She pulls out a dagger hidden within the folds of her skirt and hands it to the princess. "Keep this close, I'll meet up when I can."

"Be careful." The princess informs. Libitania nods and the two share an embrace, the princess kissing Libitania's brow.

As the princess leaves, Libitania feels eyes upon her.

* * *

Diamond watches quietly as Libitania and the princess exchange a short conversation in Elsweyr and when the princess turns away and begins to leave, Libitania half turns to Diamond.

A chill billows her veil and skirts of her down, Diamond's hair rippling in waves of gold.

"Libby." She pleas. Libitania doesn't move, her stillness the only sign that she had heard Diamond.

Diamond swallows, her nerves making her stomach ache.

What is she doing? What could she ever say to repair the rift between them? She turned her back on Libitania; more so than just not talking to her for years, but turned her back completely in the sense that whatever was left between them was now gone. At least, she thought it was before. But after learning the truth, she could still feel something there.

Something so small and so . . . powerless, that it risks going out, like a simple flame of a candle.

The loss Libby felt, the stillness with which she watches Diamond – it was all her fault.

Libby is suddenly turning away, ready to leave, and Diamond lunges forward, daring to grab the skirt of her dress to stop her. She squeaks Libby's name with urgency.

The assassin, her friend, turns to her, and the sorrow etched on her face – even beneath her veil – Diamond can see it clearly, and see the viscous scar across her eye. It's healed mildly, but still cuts clean through her eyebrow and down to her cheek.

They stand there, quiet. Diamond holding the skirt of Libby's mourning dress like a child. This is the closest they've been together since . . . since the incident on the emperor's ship.

Gods, it seems like ages ago since then. How different girls they were.

"Libby," Diamond pleas again, her lip quivering and eyes watering.

Standing with trained and honed stillness, Libby watches her. Her face in the pane of moonlight make her look so much older, and . . . more beautiful.

Then, with the slightest of hand, Libby lifts her and brushes it over Diamond's and then entangles their fingers for the briefest of seconds, but it felt like ages as they held each other. To observing eyes, it would seem like Libby is removing Diamond's hand from her dress, but Diamond knew what it meant.

The skirts of the dress fall from her grasp and Libby turns away, heading down the steps of Jorrvaskr. She watches until Libby is past the Gildergreen. She wants Diamond to follow.

Diamond looks around and finds Farkas watching them, his stare as dangerous as a lion. He witnessed the event, so it was no surprise that he nodded his head and gave a gentle jerk of his chin.

Diamond tightens the grip of her hands and hisses as she remembers she is holding the last fragment of Wuuthrad. A small sliver of blood wells on her palm. She quickly wipes it off and hurries up the steps to Skyforge. She nearly bumps into Eorlund, skidding to a stop.

"You're back." He chimes, his eyebrows high from her sudden burst.

"Yeah, um, I have Kodlak's fragment." She stammers.

"Thank you, my dear. Your Shield-Siblings have withdrawn to the Underforge. I think they're waiting for you."

Swearing profusely in her mind, Diamond hurries down the steps towards the Underforge. It'll be alright. Libby had to have known Diamond would have, other priorities to handle before she could just leave. Perhaps she'll leave clues, a trail for Diamond to follow.

The rest of the members are in the hall by now, so Diamond flies down the steps and shoves her way into the Underforge. Carefully she slows herself as she jumps into a conversation.

"The old man had one wish before he died," says Vilkas. "and he didn't get it. It's as simple as that."

"Being moonborn is not so much of a curse as you might think Vilkas." Aela retorts.

"That's fine for you, but he wanted to be _clean_." Vilkas growls. "He wanted to meet Isgramor and know the glories of Sovngarde. But all that was taken from him."

"And you avenged him. Libitania did as well."

"But Kodlak didn't care for vengeance." Farkas chimes.

"No, Farkas, he didn't," Diamond suddenly interjects. "And that's not what this is about." She approaches the fountain, the very fountain at which she earned her beastblood. It's still stained with blood, only now it makes her feel sick. "We should be honoring Kodlak, no matter our own thoughts on the blood. It's _his_ wish."

Aela sighs. "You're right. It's what he wanted." She sniffles. "And he deserved to have it."

"Kodlak used to speak of a way to cleanse his soul, even in death" Vilkas breaths. "You know the legends of the Tomb of Isgramor."

"_There the souls of Harbingers will heed the call of northern steel_." Diamond mumbles, loud enough for all to hear, even when she had meant it for herself.

"But we can't even enter the tomb without Wuuthrad, and it's in pieces like it has been for a thousand years." Aela reminds.

"And dragons were just stories." A voice chimes behind them. All heads turn, some surprise to find Eorlund standing in the shadows of the forge. "And elves once ruled Skyrim. Just because something is, doesn't mean it must be."

The air stiffens with shock and surprise as they behold the slim, engraved handle poking out over his shoulder.

"A blade is a weapon, a tool. Tools are meant to be broken, and repaired."

"Is that . . . did you repair the blade?" Vilkas asks with suppressed excitement.

"This is the first time I've had all of the pieces thanks to our Shield-Sister, here." He motions to Diamond. With honed skill and years of work, Eorlund slips the blade off of his back with one and, spinning it skillfully between before stomping the hilt into the ground. The glorious axe blade glimmers. "The flames of Kodlak shall fuel the rebirth of Wuuthrad, and now it will take you to meet him once more."

Eorlund approaches Diamond and holds the weapon out to her. Diamond almost takes a step back.

"As the one Kodlak borne most honorable, I think you should be the one to carry Wuuthrad into battle."

Even with the honor that comes with wielding the blade, even with the blade being a signature weapon of the greatest Harbingers of the Companions, Diamond almost didn't want to hold it. Not when it was the very weapon that had taken so many lives of the Snow Elves.

Still for honor of Eorlund's work, and for Kodlak, she takes the blade, slinging it along with her glass Warhammer, Kodlak's personal gift to her.

"The rest of you, prepare to journey to the Tomb of Isgramor. For Kodlak."

The rest of the members of the Circle nod in agreement and exit the forge to prep their weapons. Diamond manages to catch up to Eorlund and grab his shoulder. "Listen, Eorlund, I have something to do before we leave, if that's all right."

"Of course. Just make sure to meet up with the members before leaving for the tomb."

"Yes sir."

Quickly bowing and nodding her head, Diamond hurries down the steps and quickly follows the path she last saw Libby.

As she expected, there's a small gold coin left by the fountain in the market square, then down by the main gates. Not wanting to let this go, even if things are already hopeless, Diamond has felt more hopeful for this than anything before. That has to mean something.

So she picks up the coins and follows the trail.


	55. Chapter 54

Cloaked in darkness and shadow, Malick adjusts the folds of his cloak, removing his mask and concealing the weapons strapped to his belt. His boots click against the tiled floor, echoing loudly in the cavernous hall of Whiterun's library.

He tries to ignore the stiffness in his legs from being crouched atop the roof of Jorrvaskr Hall for the past two hours.

He had planned on attending the funeral only for Diamond. He had a little hesitation in thinking it wasn't his place, and it wasn't his business. But there was nothing wrong with attending specifically for the purpose of supporting Diamond.

He watched through the whole ceremony: the gathered speech of the members of the Circle, through the villagers leaving contribution and respects. All the while he kept his eyes on Diamond – watching her gait, her movements. It was the same as every other person who mourns the loss of a loved one.

She looked so beautiful, so powerful and full of strength in her armor with her weapons strapped to her back. Just as she was when he was watching her all those years ago. Whether it is all a skillful façade to hide her pain, he doesn't know, but he also doesn't doubt she is showing her true self. Diamond was the embodiment of strength, of power.

Though, he was surprised to find Princess Nassari Telivani walking towards the hall, with Libitania behind her. The two were dressed in mourning clothes, Libitania keeping her head low. Diamond must've invited her, and still, he only watched closer when the two mounted the forge to Kodlak's dais. He watched as the princess knelt before the dais and honored Kodlak, and he expected Libitania to do the same. She did.

But what he _didn't_ expect was to hear Libitania sing. Her lament caught everyone off guard, and the air itself seemed to still as she sang. The words so full of sorrow and anger and rage. Not just something brought upon by the death of the Harbinger, but years and years of built up anger, a forever amount of suffering entombed in a hollow heart.

It wasn't in any language he knew, and he knew everything, as did Libitania. But this song was something that had him walking towards the library of Whiterun after he watched the brief moment exchanged between her and Diamond. A small exchange of expression, but between it, words that only they understood.

Even now, an hour later, the song is still fresh in his mind and he can't stop the chill that goes up his spine when its words echo through his mind.

Libitania was hiding something, again – a secret she kept so locked up that only the horror and shattering loss of her beloved home and servants could have made her slip in such a way. Her body is a patchwork of scars; he'd seen it with his own eyes. But these scars might go deeper: the pain of losing so many loved ones, and the different, but perhaps just as agonizing, loss of Diamond.

So the more he could discover about her, the better chance Diamond stands of being prepared when the secret comes to light. Because he will be damned if Diamond becomes broken again through the ache and pain of deception.

Removing his hood, he treks deeper into the library, attempting to look for the head librarian, usually seated in the little office tucked into one of the walls of the library. But he wasn't there, and so he managed to find an apprentice. A young woman, no older than fifteen, who immediately started gawking and nervously stuttering the moment Malick called her attention. He could've sworn her eyes bulged out of her head, and her tongue rolled all the way to the floor.

Malick could only smile. His beauty was only a mere weapon of his natural-born arsenal. A face that has earned him more women in a month than some courtesans hope to gain in a year. A face that he has used for both pleasure and deception. "I have a question for you, My Lady."

The apprentice, with her wine-red hair braided into pigtails, and her turquoise eyes sparkling, preens at the honorific, and Malick tries his best to look uninterested.

"If I wanted to look up funeral dirges – laments – from other kingdoms, where would be the best place to look?" While Libitania might've been born here in Skyrim, her origin was Imperial. So there's a chance she might've visited or have become more than familiar with the culture of Cyrodill. Especially when he heard she used to keep a multitude of Chorrolian stallions.

The apprentice gives him a confused look, and says, "What a dreadful topic."

Malick shrugs and takes a shot in the dark. "A friend of mine is from the Imperial City, and his mother recently died. So I'd like to honor him by learning one of their songs."

The girl smiles impishly and twirls her hair. "That's quite amiable of you. You must have a wondrous voice."

Malick almost snorts at the idea of him singing. Out of everything he could do, singing wasn't one of them. "Are there any books where those songs might be?"

"Hmm," the apprentice hums while walking down the main steps. "Well, most of the songs were never written down. And why would they be?"

"Surely scholars in Cyrodill recorded some of them. The Imperial City has the greatest library in all of Tamriel." Malick counters.

"That they do," the apprentice says, a twinge of sorrow in her words. "But I don't think anyone ever bothered to write down their dirges. At least, not in a way that could have made it here."

"What about in other languages? My friend from Cyrodill mentioned something about a dirge he once heard sung in another tongue – though he never learned what it was."

The apprentice strokes the end of one of her braids. "Another language? Everyone in Cyrodill speaks the common tongue. No one's spoken a different language there for thousands of years."

They appeared to be walking deeper into the library, Malick assuming she's trying to keep his company for as long as she can. "So there are no dirges in Cyrodill that are sung in a different language?"

"No," she says, drawing out the word as she ponders. "But I once heard that in the high courts of the Snow Elves, when the nobility died, they sang their laments in the Ancient Falmer Language."

Malick's blood freezes and he almost trips, but he manages to keep walking and says, "Would these songs have been known by everyone – not just the nobility?"

"Oh, no," the apprentice says, only half-listening as she recites whatever history is in her head. "Those songs were sacred to the court. Only those of noble blood ever learned or sang them. They were taught and sung in secret, their dead buried by the light of the moon, when no other ears cold hear them. At least, that's what rumors claimed. I'll admit to my own morbid curiosity in that I'd hoped to hear them all those years ago, but by the time of the slaughter had ended upon the Snow Elven kind, there was no one left in those noble houses to sing them."

No one, except . . .

"Thank you." Malick gets out, then quickly turns away, walking towards the exit. The apprentice calls after him, recommending he comes back in anytime he likes, but Malick doesn't bother to reply.

How? How is that possible she knew songs sacred to a long extinct court? Erelia Glendeylin was supposed to be the only living Snow Elf alive. Unless . . .

Could Libitania be in contact with the lost queen herself?

He was sure as hell that the Guild had no kind of resources, no matter how extensive that they could find another Snow Elf. Gods, if Libitania was in league with Erelia . . . if she somehow managed to get into contact, and has seen the Lost Queen for herself

Erelia was a part of the nobility who had been executed by the Nords. Her family and friends had been murdered.

_Slaughtered_.

Regardless of what the results could be, if Erelia ever took up the mantle she had lost, if Erelia ever got to her feet . . .

Then she could become a powerhouse – potentially capable of standing against Ulfric Stormcloak _and_ the Imperial Army. Gods, with the combination of Princess Nassari Telivani, Queen Erelia Glendeylin, and Libitania Desidenius, there is a horror neither man nor gods could possibly stand against.

* * *

Sitting at the edge of the pier, the skirts of her dress blooming around her, the tips of Libitania's toes just touch the water as she swings her legs back and forth. Towering high above her, the Eldergleam tree glimmers in the moonlight, and butterflies and birds chirp happily within the Sanctuary.

With the blackness of the dress concealing her in the shadows of the night, Libitania was able to slip easily through the trees, avoid bandits and make her way towards a place that both she and Diamond knew about. They used to play there all the time when they were kids.

When she arrived, the moonlight was shimmering on the water as it is now, rippling slightly with autumn leaves floating onto the top and swarming around her, all landing around her; as if her mourning and sorrows repelled even them.

Libitania remembers when she and Diamond were younger, when she introduced Diamond to this place, it was around the spring. The trees would've been pink with flowers, lily pads floating atop the surface with white flowers, the water flowing smoothly from down the mountains.

They used to build their own little forts, they _made_ their little hut home in a small outcropping of rocks that stretches back enough to hide food, some extra money, even clothes. Why they put it all there, they don't know. It just, felt fun. They were young, wild, and free to travel around with little to no parental supervision.

But, as she expected, by the time she came here tonight after Kodalk's funeral, everything was already gone. Probably taken by some bandits or hunters, or some vagrants. She didn't care; once both of them were at the age of sixteen, they barely had time to come here anymore. The clothes didn't fit, and the coins were mere chump change, the food rotten.

They would swim here in the summers, hunt in the fall. This place holds more than a special place in both of their hearts. Diamond probably doesn't even remember this place until she actually finds it. That is if she bothers to come.

After Kodlak's funeral, she thought she would feel, lighter. She killed Zusa, the women truly responsible for his death, she went to the funeral to pay her respects, and anything left from here, it's none of her business. She did everything she could.

So _why_ does she still feel this way? These intense feelings of sadness, and anger, and hurt.

Stupid. How stupid she was to make such a vow to Kodlak. A stupid, pitiful vow that is worth as much as mud when there were so many beloved, strong and capable warriors to avenge Kodlak and carry on his legacy of the Companions.

Libitania takes a deep breath, calming her growing anger. She's just fatigued; exhausted from so much loss, tried some nights of no sleep.

Her dreams are getting worse. More vivid. And this time, she can feel the familiarity of a bow on her hands, people shouting her name.

What is she to do? She thought she could confide to Kodlak, but just as quickly he is gone from her.

Libitania curses Zusa's name to the highest order. Even in death she manages to ruin Libitania's life. Had Zusa, in killing Kodlak, also killed Libitania's chance of finding answers?

No. She knew what she had to do. She knew for the longest time – she just never had the courage to face it.

The sound of a twig breaking makes Libitania twitch her head to the left. She smiles at the familiar gait of feet on dry leaves.

"I didn't think you would come." She mumbles quietly.

* * *

Diamond has been following the trail for about twenty minutes now. Wherever Libitania is leading her, it's far enough for only their ears to hear. Diamond keeps finding more and more gold coins, by now she's collected nearly two hundred worth.

It didn't click in her head until she bypasses a familiar cairn, and she saw a red mountain flower tucked in between one of the rocks. The clue from Libby, and then a fresh breeze kicked up, and the smell of purified water tickles her senses.

She half-expected the flower to be rotten by now, reduced to an old brown with petals at its base, but no, the flower has remained as beautiful as before. Either through magicka, or because someone had the heart to replace it once the old one died.

Rounding a wall of rock, Diamond sighs when she finds the entrance to Eldergleam Sanctuary. This place is a cave located a fair distance away from Whiterun. It is considered a holy place in Skyrim, sacred to the goddess Kynareth. It's one of the most beautiful places in Skyrim. Libitania having found it while they were heading towards the city, and a vicious rainstorm made them take shelter.

Squeezing her way through the entrance, she inhales and sighs with pleasure as the air suddenly becomes filled with the perfume of wild flowers and purified water. Even with the cold of winter now over, summer is barely penetrating through the cold, but this sanctuary is still as lively as it would be in spring. Waterfalls flow from above down into the cave, and the Eldergleam itself towers high above on the hill atop, it's roots blocking the pathway to her trunk.

Diamond walks along the pathway, looking around, taking in the sight of the wondrous sanctuary, where war and famine seem like nothing but a distant memory. Log steps are half-buried in dirt, and the wood of a bridge creaks under her feet. She treks up the hill, butterflies and birds flying past her, rabbits scurrying past her feet.

She comes to a stop, inhaling stiffly as she beholds Libby sitting at the edge of a pier leading into the natural oasis. Still in her mourning clothes, her circlet and veil have been cast aside, already claimed by a couple of rabbits cuddled together in a small pile of fur, and a squirrel taking bits of it up to its nest.

Diamond carefully approaches, fidgeting with her hands. The skirts of Libby's dress are pooling behind her, spilling over the side of the pier, just barely touching the surface of the oasis. Her feet hits a twig, and Libby half-turns to her, indicating she heard her footsteps. She could've sworn she saw Libby slightly smile before turning back to the oasis and says, "I didn't think you would come."

Diamond doesn't say anything. She doesn't really know what to say. Maybe she might've when she was on her way, but being here now, seeing Libby like this . . . what words could possibly fic the rift between them? After everything she did, and after everything Libby did, are they too different to fix?

So she can only walk up next to Libby, who conveniently left enough space for Diamond to sit. Carefully she removes her weapons before sitting down next to her. Her feet are an inch above the water, dangling and slowly swaying.

Silence between them; the only sounds being those of the late night birds, the water flowing through the sanctuary. A butterfly floats towards them, delicately landing on Libby's scared knuckles. It's a beautiful butterfly – white with small spots of yellow on its wings.

It flaps it wings gently, crawling here and there on her hand. Diamond watches and listens as she hears Libby draw a shaky breath as she lifts her hand closer to her face. The moonlight pooling into the sanctuary casts panes of light and shadow along her beautiful face. Her other hand carefully lights, and her finger strokes the wing of the white butterfly. After another stroke, the little critter lifts from her hand, tentatively touches the tip of her nose, and then swoops up high towards the Eldergleam tree.

Diamond looks to Libby, surprised to see tears streaming down her cheeks. Libby wipes them away and gently speaks, "We used to play here all the time."

The Companion can only look at her friend. This wasn't a conversation where she needed to speak.

"I remember when we first arrived, you were so stupid." Libby chuckles sadly. Diamond gives a half smile. "You ran right across the bridge and fell face first into the water because you slipped."

Diamond's smile grows wider, though still laced with sadness, but compassion. And her shoulders even shake from the chuckle that compresses her chest.

"Then there was another time I tried teaching you some magicka – aw, I can't remember what it was – but when you tried it, you made the plant grow so fast you got tangled in them." Libby giggles again, or rather, some king of a giggle mixed with a sob. More tears drip from her chin. She sniffles and wipes her nose with the back of her wrist.

Diamond remembers all of what Libby is talking about. They used to come here so many times, she was disappointed in herself for not remembering. It's quite possible that some of their best memories are here in this Sanctuary. Entombed with the light of life, the cleanliness of the air. Memories as pure as this sanctuary deserved to be here. And they will forever stay here.

"I will not ask for your forgiveness." Libby then says, her voice barely above a whisper. Diamond looks to her. "Because what I've done, is truly unforgiveable. I've been so lost in anger and hatred for so many years. And then this goofy, stupid, uneducated kid comes along –" Diamond chuckles, familiar with the taunt and mockery among friends. "– and suddenly, I find her stealing what was left of my heart. But now, it seems that I've lost you forever."

Without realizing, Diamond scoots herself closer to Libby, the skirts of her dress now touching her hip. She shivers at the sight of the thick scar trailing vertically across Libby's eye. A scar that she inflicted.

"I'm sorry Diamond. Please understand that." Libby whimpers. Libby looks to her, her emerald eyes gleaming, the gold sparkling like the moonlight on the water. "I am so, so sorry. For everything. I know I shouldn't have lied to you – you were the greatest friend I've ever had."

Tears run over and down that scar. Diamond looks at the scar, a pang of guilt in her chest. When she had given that scar to Libby - her best friend - she wasn't thinking. She was so consumed with rage over what she thought Libby had done, all she could think about was ending her life. But now, now Libby almost wears that scar like a badge, a symbol of what she had endured.

It's admirable, but it's also rather annoying, because she has to admit: Libby looks pretty good with it.

"I've been lying and running for so long that I have forgotten what it means to stand and fight. To be truthful and to actually let someone into my life. But then again, perhaps I thought that my life was too complicated and dangerous that I thought I was protecting you more by keeping it from you."

Another stiffness of breath, and a deep inhale for control. Diamond knew she is speaking far past her lie of just being in the Faceless. There's something deeper in her life, something that could fall under the same category of her mother, possibly. Maybe, the secrets belong to that of her mother. Diamond knew what had befallen her father, knew what he did and how he operated. But her mother . . .

"But, after everything we've been through, I only realize now I was running from what I couldn't face. And now, as much as it pains me to say it, the Libitania you knew has died. She had died a long time ago."

So had Diamond. They were mere children compared to what they are now. Warriors scared and aged with loss, betrayal and anger.

"I thought I knew what loss was, but after losing you . . ."

Diamond almost chokes at how Libby is taking the blame for this. Diamond admits, she's the one who turned her back against Libby. She's surprised Libby is still even bothering to talk to her now even after what Diamond said to her, and what she did.

"Now I think realize the pain that you endured; what I did to you that night on the Emperor's ship. I didn't know I had caused such loss for you. And you have to know that I did everything I could. Please know that." Libby's voice hitches and she covers her mouth, choking on sobs.

This is, surreal. Her whole life Libby has always been the responsible one, the rock of the two, the level-headed one. And Diamond, Diamond would always confide to her, always be the child, and now . . .

"I'm sorry Diamond. I'm just so sorry."

This time, Diamond can finally see the strong Libitania crackle and crumble. Her wall crashing down and emotions flowing forth. She has seen Libby cry before, but not like this. When she cried, she only allowed a few tears before she forced herself to stiffen up.

She's never really seen Libby, sob before. It's odd to think about it now.

So Diamond scoots herself closer to Libby and wraps an arm around her shoulders. She pulls Libby in and lets her head rest on her shoulder. The water ripples and Diamond could see fish swimming towards them. Off to Libby's left Diamond watches as a small bird lands on the post at the end of the pier. It chirps and looks to Libby, cocking its head here and there before going to pull at her skirt.

Diamond is about to shoo it away, but Libby finds it and actually pets it. The bird chirps, almost sadly, before flying off.

The two of them sit together in moments of silence, letting the waterfall and birds be their music. Diamond rubs Libby's shoulders as she continually waits for her to be finished. When she is, Libby lifts herself from Diamond's shoulder and wipes her eyes. Diamond again looks to the scar on her left eye. She must've seen a healer for it to heal that quickly.

Then they just sit together, watching the water, letting squirrels and rabbits and butterflies and birds scamper and float around them. Quickly the silence becomes comforting, wrapping around the two girls like a blanket. And then . . .

"Aurora." Libby speaks.

Diamond looks to her with a confused expression. Libby looks to her, eyes still red-rimmed, but the green and gold of her eyes shining as bright as the sun.

"You once asked if I could remember my mother's name." Libby speaks softly. "It was Aurora."

Diamond is almost taken aback. Instantly, she remembers.

It was actually in this very sanctuary that Diamond had asked Libby about her mother. They were making the trek up to the Eldergleam for a picnic. The roots themselves seemed to move out of Libby's way, as if the tree herself was welcoming them.

They sat under her, the pink flower petal drifting down around them. Butterflies of all shades and all animals inhabiting the sanctuary coming up to them. The two of them feeding the animals as if they raised them. Shoveling down on some delicious food from Solitude, the girls were talking peacefully – though she can't remember what – and then Diamond asked Libby about her mother.

Immediately Libby paused her eating and set down her bowl of soup. She wipes her mouth and disclaimed she had no memory of her mother. Foolishly, Diamond perused, but Libby kept saying she has no memory. Then she shut Diamond up with the simple story: Her mother was killed when she was young, then her father, and then she was a thief.

And that's all Diamond needed to hear to realize she should not push too far, for her own safety and livability.

Diamond eyes almost water at the confession. She's never heard the slightest fact about Libby's mom, and now, to put a name to a still mysterious face. It's a still small dip in the massive pool of Libby's past, but . . . looking at it. Looking at Libby . . .

Diamond realizes she is more than willing to take the plunge into figuring out just who Libby really is. She's more than willing to start over, to see the real Libby with no secrets.

She is still her friend, and Diamond is still her friend. They have been through so much together, and apart. They are no longer the children they once were. They can still start anew.

And then she feels it – a warmth in her chest that is both familiar and foreign. Something that feels like it has been cocooned in her chest for so long, that one it has been let free, it spreads wildly through her entire body, raising the hairs on the back of her neck and spreading goose bumps across her arms.

_You two share something I can't even describe. Something so pure, so strong that nothing in this world, none of its cruelty or pains can destroy it_. Kodlak had once said.

And now she feels it.

The bond between them that could never be broken. A bond built of shadows and blood and tears and love. The bond between them that goes deeper than blood. It is something that could possibly never die, no matter what life throws at them. And that, is something special.

That is what unconditional love is like.

And so, Diamond sits herself closer until her thigh is touching the skirts of Libby's dress, wraps her arms around her arm around Libby's shoulder. She leans in, and when she feels Libby's shoulders shudder, Diamond sighs contently and lets her cry.


	56. Chapter 55

Standing in the mouth of the mound of the Tomb of Ysgramor, the winter chill of the north sends goose bumps across Diamond's skin, and Wuuthrad feels like a heavy weight against her back.

She already knew the other members were inside, judging from the footprints left in the snow, and from the freshly lit candles sitting inside little alcoves. They had agreed to travel separately, Aela travels with the twins, and Diamond travels with Libby.

Shortly after their, meet up at Eldergleam Sanctuary, after the moment they shared, and the touching reveal of Libby's mother and her name, Diamond just had to invite Libby to come along. But also because Kodlak would've done the same, would've wanted her to be there. Diamond was only hesitant because the souls of the Harbingers before would've been able to sense Libby presence as non-Companion. But Libby took up the offer without hesitation, without thought, as well. It's not that she wasn't up to the challenge, it's just that this could be one hell of a challenge.

They'll be dealing with ancient warriors whose spirits are still as strong as they would've been in life. Libby can take them, but still, that doesn't ease Diamond's nerves about entering the tomb. Will the Harbingers forsake them for taking Libby into the tomb? Who knows – perhaps Libby's reputation breaches as far as the afterlife.

The sound of crunching snow tickles her ear and Diamond turns to see Libby descending the steps into the mound, the cloak of her Nightingale armor trailing behind her. Through the ripples of the cloak Diamond can see the Silver Swords strapped securely to her back and a burlap sack against her waist. They briefly headed back towards Whiterun – or rather Diamond went inside while Libby waited outside the main gates. Eorlund managed to fix up a handful of the swords that they swiped from the Silver Hand. It's effective against any undead – but also werewolves.

It's better than nothing, since they don't have the power of the mystical sword of Merida – Dawnbreaker.

Hopefully this'll help with the Harbingers. As Libby approaches, she removes her hood and huffs a hot breath. Her eyes flick to Wuuthrad and she actually takes a couple steps back. Diamond carefully adjusts the battleaxe as well as the straps of her own silver swords.

Libby acted similar while they were in Eldergleam Sanctuary. She kept her eyes closely on the axe, as if she expected it to come to life and devour her. Diamond just thought it was the creepy nature of the sword with its face forever stretched into a hollow scream. Even that scared Diamond when she was first saw the axe, even in pieces. But something about Libby's behavior is just odd, after all it is just a weapon.

Of course it's also the weapon that had a hand in the battle that started the extermination of the Snow Elves.

Whatever the case, Diamond feels it isn't much of her place to ask Libby. When she's ready, she'll tell Diamond. At least, she hopes.

With a glance at one another, and after Libby – rather rudely – check the burial urns for coins, the two of them head inside. They're brought to a couple of steps heading downward into the entryway of the tomb, where there stands a statue of Ysgramor, and Aela and the twins walking around, and getting warm. Strangely, inside the tomb, it's incredibly warmer. Though Diamond wishes she had brought her old mystic mask with her – the one that she used to wear all the time in the Brotherhood, as it provided her with a veil from the stuffy air of the burial mounds that reek of decaying bodies; as well as some special addition to her magicka that she never fully divulged into.

Libby descends the steps and immediately beelines for Farkas. The Companion gives a smile and instantly his arms open and Libby walks into them. He kisses her forehead and Libby just rests herself against his chest. They hold one another, as if they've already forgotten about everyone else there.

Diamond follows down the steps, and Vilkas approaches. A pain tightens her chest as she still sees the hurt and cold distance in his eyes. "This is the resting place of Ysgramor. And his most trusted generals." He speaks. "You should he cautious."

"Are you not coming?" Diamond asks, daring to extend out her arm. Her fingers just braise against his skin before he turns away.

"Kodlak was right. I let vengeance rule my heart." He mumbles huskily. He looks to her, and Diamond almost shivers. "I regret nothing of what we did to the Silver Hand. But I can't go any further with my mind fogged, and my heart grieved."

Diamond heard through the whispers of the walls, through the thick blanket of silence that covered her in the blur of days after Kodlak's death, that what Vilkas and a couple other warriors did to the Silver Hand at Driftshade – their home base – was gruesome. No one was left alive.

She thought she would feel triumph. She thought she would feel resolve, but instead, her heart only felt heavy. The Silver Hand weren't responsible for Kodlak's death. Only the honor of Jorrvaskr was saved. Zusa had killed Kodlak – and Libby was the one who had truly avenged him.

She didn't feel any resolve or triumph is because, well because it's like what she and Libby do. Impulsive anger that drove them to do unthinkable, unimaginable, unspeakable things. Diamond is sure as hell, that whatever Vilkas did, it's nothing compared to what Libby does when she's angry.

But the most significant reason being how the lines are parallel to the Snow Elves, to the Khajiit that had lost their lives.

_Slaughtered_.

The Companions had slaughtered them. Just like the ancient Nords genocide the Snow Elves, and now Ulfric Stormcloak butchered the Khajiit rebels. It's all a vicious cycle with Nords. But does Diamond really have a right to speak, after the what she did with Commander Maro, after what she had become when she rampaged through her Sanctuary after hearing of her betrayal?

"Why do we need to be cautious?" Libby asks.

Vilkas turns to her and says, "The original Companions. Their finest warriors rest with Ysgramor. You'll have to prove yourself to them."

Diamond can see Libby gulp. Her eyes find Diamond and she takes a breath. "Perhaps I should wait outside them." She immediately starts to head for the doors.

"No, no, Libby." Farkas says, gently catching her elbow. "You're welcome here."

"I can assure you I am not."

"Libby," Diamond says, stepping towards her. She extends out her arm and rests her hand on Libby's shoulder, well aware of Farkas glare. "I'm sure you'll be fine. You are a Companion." Diamond smiles. "And besides, Kodlak must've put in a good word for you."

"The warriors will sense my tainted heart. My unfamiliar energy, my lack of honor."

"Well, they'll just have to deal with it." Aela chimes. "We trust you, Libitania. We welcome you as our sister. And who knows, perhaps the Harbingers will be envious to learn we gained the allegiance of Skyrim's Assassin."

"It's not that you're intruding." Vilkas adds. "I'd wager they've actually expected us. They just want to make sure that you're worthy. Just be ready for an honorable battle."

Libby offers a ghost of a smile. And after exchanging assuring glances between Diamond and Farkas, she nods. But her nervousness is still clear.

"So how do we get inside?" Diamond asks.

"Return Wuuthrad to Ysgramor. It should open the way." Vilkas points to the statue, whose hands are already carved as if he did expect them to return his axe.

Diamond almost wanted to smash it into the pieces they found it in, maybe even more considering the history and the blood that stains its blade. She'd never come to favor Ysgramor in general, but how is it that the Companions worshipped such a murderer? She was taught to at least respect the general for what his creation of the Companions, but even that is falling out of favor with Diamond the more though she puts into it.

Still, either way she'll be rid of the axe. So she approaches the statue, removing the axe from her back. It rings as it's unsheathed. She carefully sets the axe into Ysgramor's hands and there's a loud bang, and the sound of stone scraping on stone. Behind the statue, a piece of the wall slides back, and then down into the ground.

Diamond looks to Farkas, Libby and Aela, and gives a rather grim smiles. "Let's go give them a welcome."

"But remember," Vilkas chimes. "This isn't about brutality. This is just to show your intentions. Let the blade sing the song of your heart. Let it whine Kodlak's name as you enter into the tomb."

Aela and Farkas draw their weapons, and Libby, she hesitantly, sets her hand on her sword. She exchanges a look with Diamond and the two take a breath.

Drawing her own sword, Diamond leads the charge.

* * *

After a couple greetings from skeevers, the four of them reached the second entry of the tomb. The first two of the phantoms of the original Companions had put up a good fight, and ectoplasmic blood dripped from their weapon before fading off into nothing.

Standing in front of the doors leading into the chamber, Diamond kicks them open, and they clang and swing open loudly. Almost instantly they see the five phantoms emerge from their coffins and draw weapons.

"I sense a presence." One female says, her voice husky and laced with an odd echo.

Libby immediately springs forward and wields her sword high. She dives for the first ghost like a bird of prey and into the throng of apparitions. Unleashing a cloud of thick dust under her impact, Libby runs out and faces against the first male apparition. He goes to strike her with his sword, but Libby nimbly dodges and kicks him to the side. As another one goes to impale her, she leaps back and throws a silver lasso from her waist. It glows like moonlight on water and actually manages to wrap around the phantom's neck.

With a viscous whip of her arm, the phantom is sent flying heavily into the wall, the stone crackling, grumbling and crumbling beneath it, leaving a deep dent.

"Holy . . ." Farkas trails off.

Three more phantom warriors charge for her, and with her lasso still tied around the one's neck, Libby whips her arm again, aiming the phantom into the throng. They scatter like ants, and Libby lunges forward, drawing her silver sword. She slices across the chest of one, ectoplasmic blood spouting, then cuts the knee of another. As if falls over, Libby pounces, plunging her sword through its head, then vaults over another one slashing with his shield and slashes her sword across his sternum.

The ectoplasmic blood, or substance stains her blade and arm, but as it's dripping like blood, it vanishes in a matter of seconds. As Libby turns towards the remaining two phantoms, she gives a sly grin. "Greetings, warriors."

The phantoms hesitate, even taking steps back. But they Libby's distraction costs them as Aela plants two arrows – one for each – into their necks. As they fall, Libby collects the arrows. She walks over, handing them back to Aela. "Not bad, Sister." she says with a grin.

"Thank you." Libby says. "I'll admit, it's quite interesting to see the different styles of fighting. One of the benefits of living with you Companions."

"How do you mean?"

Diamond sheathes her Warhammer, adjusting her shoulders. She draws her silver sword and her dagger as she and Farkas lead into the next chamber.

"Well, not to be disrespectful, but you're fighting style is more, charging and upfront. Putting yourself in the heat of it. It's a lot of swinging and direct contact. Whereas with me, it's more, how do I put this . . . graceful."

Aela nods as they follow Diamond and Farkas. "I can't deny that. It is true. Of course, I should state that your style of fighting, graceful as if may be, is suitable for your, previous, lifestyle I should say."

Libby smiles. "Yes. Sometimes it's, exhilarating to charge into the heat of battle. To delve into the heat of war. Honestly I didn't think I would like it so much. My style of fighting consists of, treating sword play like it's a dance. Every move you make has to be precise, or the dance is ruined."

Aela nods, actually seeming interested. Their conversation is cut short when Libby sweeps in front of her as Aela is about to speak, and blocks an arrow headed for her neck. Aela draws out her own bow as Libby charges forward; Farkas and Diamond already engaged in battle.

Only now does the smell of water hit her nose, and she willingly plunges into the ankle deep pool as she aims her sword high for a phantom warrior taking on Diamond. As one warrior steps in her way, Libby instantly drives her sword through his gut, yanks it out and slices off his head, all within one smooth motion.

As the female apparition shoves Diamond off swings her hammer into Diamond's side, rendering nearly whacking her into the wall, Libby leaps up and slashes her sword from left to right, having it blocked both times. Then the warrior swings her hammer right into Libby's jaw and she is sent flying back.

The pain in her jaw sends flashes of white light, even behind closed eyelids. And she didn't expect to be knocked off of her feet. She tries to get her body to work, but the feeling of flying leaves her, stunned.

Farkas, who just finishes stabbing his opponent in the neck, quickly drops his weapon and runs to catch Libby. He does, sliding through the water to a stop as she lands in his arms. He quickly sets her down, picks up his weapon and begins another fight with another apparition.

Libby sheathes her sword and draws her bow as Diamond comes to her feet. As the warrior raises her hammer above her head, Libby quickly loads an arrow and fires. It finds its mark and the phantom warrior grunts as it hits her hand, knocking the weapon out of her hand. Diamond whips her feet out, knocking the warrior out and pummels her into the ground with her elbow connecting to her collarbone. The warrior screams and fades into nothing.

Libby keeps firing, the bow feeling like an extension of her arm. How is it she went so long without using this weapon? The bow was and still is her favorite weapon. It's actually the very same bow Karliah had given her that night she was off to the Twilight Sepulcher. So at least dealing with phantoms isn't new to her. And granted she's been trying to use her father's sword as much as she could, but the bow will always have her heart. The weapon her parents new she was destined to hold.

As the last warriors falls, Libby quickly sheathes her bow hurries over to Diamond, who is still bent and knee, holding her side. Libby hurries up the two steps leading into the next chamber of challenges, and kneels with Diamond. "Are you okay?"

"I think so." Diamond grunts. "But I didn't expect their weapons to, hurt."

"Nothing is broken is it?" Libby asks as she moves Diamond's hand aside.

"It doesn't feel like it, just probably going to be bruised." She smiles a little as a little blood dribbles from the corner of her mouth.

"Here, hold still." Libby says. Diamond obeys, and Libby holds out her hands, both emanating a warm, buttery glow. Gentle tendrils of smoke ripple off of her hands, and her eyes glow a sunshine gold. She hovers her hands over Diamond's ribcage, even setting her hand on Diamond's side. "I don't feel any broken bones, no internal bleeding. But still, this should help as we go in deeper into the tomb."

Diamond holds still, letting Libby's healing hands thicken her skin. As she turns her head to watch, she swallows as she sees Libby's wrists poking out between her gloves and vambraces. The scars from where shackles used to be, the shackles of Cidhna Mines. Why hadn't she taken the time to heal them?

Aela cuts through the webbing of the next chamber, Farkas watches her, and carefully steps towards Libby. She finishes healing Diamond and helps her to her feet. She demands Diamond walk around, Diamond obeys and insists Libby did a good job.

"By the way, where did you get that rope, lasso thing?" Diamond asks.

"I picked it up from Arcadia's Cauldron before we left. Or well, before I left the city. It's supposed to be great in dealing with opponents. I think it drains their energy for magicka, and it's as strong as steal, weaved from the skin of dragons."

"Really?"

"Well, that's what the Tonilia told me, and I had Arcadia enchant it for the undead." She looks down at her hip to where the lasso sits, it's metallic glow almost entrancing.

Farkas approaches them and says. "I can't go any further, Libby."

"Why not? What's wrong?" she asks with sudden concern.

"Ever since Dustman's Cairn, the big crawly ones have been too much for me." Farkas admits.

Dustman's Cairn, that was the tomb they traversed during Libby's trial. In truth there was a lot of spiders, but she had no idea that Farkas was one with arachnophobia. It's almost, cute in a way. So when she smiles, Farkas rolls his eyes and sighs.

"Everyone has their weakness. And this one is mine. I'm not proud of it, but I will stay back with Vilkas."

Libby lifts her hand to his cheek, caressing his jaw and stroking her thumb across his skin. He nestles and gives a small smile. Libby kisses his lips, Farkas' arms immediately wrapping around her middle and pulling her close.

"We'll be back soon." She says.

"Give me regards to Ysgramor." Farkas winks.

Libby gives his hand a quick, reassuring squeeze before she follows Aela and Diamond after Aela cuts away the rest of the web. Almost immediately as they enter, a splurt of web aims for them, Libby gripping Diamond's back and hauling her forward, making her duck in time.

Without words, Libby rolls off and loads her bow, and Diamond sprints forward. Libby fires an arrow at the three spiders, and each find a mark in an eye, a leg or the heart. One drops dead, and Aela and Diamond quickly finish off the other two, green blood dripping off of their weapons. Diamond groans with disgust as she does her best to wipe it off.

"Uh," Diamond grunts. "I feel like the gods just gave up on these when creating them."

Libby giggles as she carefully extracts some of the venom from their fangs. Meanwhile Aela cuts away at more of the webbing leading into the next chamber.

"Girls, heads up!" she calls.

Libby and Diamond immediately look up and leap out of the way as a giant frostbite spider descends from the ceiling. Libby's skin crawls but she loads an arrow and takes aim. Her first arrow hits its mark in one of the eyes of the spider. Diamond charges forward, nimbly hopping from leg to leg, marking the spider's body with cuts, Aela dealing with its minions guarding the gate.

Another arrow hits the spider a hair's breadth away from its fangs and Diamond leaps high off of its back leg and plunges her hammer into its abdomen, splashing green blood everywhere. She pries it loose, Libby blocking any splatters coming her way with her cape.

"Eww!" Diamond cries. "I think it had eggs!"

Libby can't help but burst into laughter as she comes up and cuts the fangs of the spider off. Diamond frantically does her best to rub off the guts and moist webbing of the spider as Aela pulls a chain, opening the gate.

Following the steps, they find another chamber filled with burial slots. Some of the bodies rotten down to the bones, others expertly preserved through mummification. Thankfully the draugr are the least of their worries.

"What was that?" Aela suddenly speaks, and more apparitions emerge from their coffers.

Libby reaches for her lasso and quickly the end grips around the neck of one and she swings it into three more who were emerging. Diamond hurries forward and drives her silver sword up through the under chin of one apparition then slicing its head off. She whacks the next phantom with the head before it disappears and shoves her blade through the mouth of the next phantom.

Aela shoots her arrows, some finding their mark, but the Companion phantom blocks it with his shield and charges for Aela. The huntress leaps back and just as the phantom Companion is about to lunge his sword forward, Diamond drives her silver sword through his back and pushes until it penetrates through his chest. The warmth of the ectoplasm fills her hands, but it's gone in seconds.

Libby is engaged in close-battle, blocking with her bow and punching with her feet and hands. The Companion ghost hurtles his sword down and Libby blocks, her teeth grating as she thinks the blade is embedded into the bow. Yanking back, she kicks the Companion in the stomach and drops her bow to draw her dagger and drive it into his sternum. She twists the blade as she yanks it out. She lets the phantom drop like a stone, and watches as he fades into the floor.

She had to admit, for ghosts, they were good. She's beginning to break a sweat and her arms are beginning to ache from the impact of their weapons.

"There's a set of stairs that goes down deeper." Aela calls as she motions the girls over. She doesn't bother sheathing her bow, and Libby and Diamond follow. They fight their way through the remainder of the ghosts, pushing their way through another chamber each woman gaining new injuries – nothing too serious, but enough that by the time they reach the final doorway, each are spitting blood onto the stones and are wiping bloodied noses.

Libby casts a brief healing spell among the two and Diamond circles her shoulders and cracks her neck.

"Ah, it's good to be back in the heat of battle." Aela smiles as she wraps her bloodied knuckles from when she punched a Harbinger square in the jaw.

Libby shakes her head and rolls her eyes, but Diamond can see a small smile on her lips. In front of them are another set of stairs, and two iron doors. No doubt that the heart of the tomb is inside. Libby feels her stomach ache with nervousness, and Diamond seems hesitant as well.

"Well, this is it." Libby says. "Once we go through those doors, we might . . . see _something_."

"I thought I was ready before, but now, I almost feel like I can't face him." Diamond admits.

"Why not?"

"I don't know. It could be something with the funeral, but it's odd. We didn't leave off on a bad note. I just don't know."

"Perhaps you just need some final words, only you alone." Aela chimes as she refills her sheath. "Some closure for you."

"Perhaps." Diamond shrugs. She quickly shakes her head. "Alright, let's – let's get this over with."

Libby nods and assists Diamond as they push open the thick doors to reveal a large, cavernous rotunda. It has three short alcoves housing the bodies of Ysgramor and his trusted Harbingers, Ysgramor's tomb guarded by black iron bars. At its center is a small pit with an alter burning with a bright blue flame.

Sheathing their weapons, the three women carefully approach the center of the room, their footsteps echoing. As they round the small fire stand, Diamond's skin crawls when she beholds the shimmering figure standing before the fire.

"Kodlak." She whispers, her lips quivering immediately.

Libby and Aela approach, their hearts heavy and eyes watering. Layers of glowing white drape and cling to the curvatures of his armor, and it is as though the fabric itself is made from moonlight. He was beautiful; luminescent like a sliver cut from a dying star.

"Greetings, my children." His voice deep and throaty yet wholly masculine.

"Kodlak, is that you?" Diamond asks.

The specter smiles gently, something that anyone would recognize. "Of course. My fellow Harbingers and I have been warming ourselves here. Trying to evade Hircine."

"But there's nobody else here." Aela says, even her voice quivering.

"You see only me because your hearts know only me as the Companion leader." He chuckles. "I'd wager old Vignar could see half a dozen of my predecessors. And I see them all. The ones in Sovngarde. The ones trapped with me in Hircine's realm. And they all see you."

Kodlak approaches Diamond, his apparition giving off a warmth like candlelight. He lifts his hand to Diamond's face, who stiffens. "You have brought to the name of the Companions. We won't soon forget it."

In a moment, Libby flashes back to when she and Karliah were together in the room of the Twilight Sepulcher, and she had seen her father's ghost after so many lonely and torturous years. She could feel his warmth, feel his physical being. It was like he was never dead. But she was so cruelly reminded when he disappeared into the Evergloam; Nocternal's perpetual twilight. Despite its honor towards the Nightingales, Libby wishes he would've been reunited with her mother.

"Vilkas said you can still be cured." Diamond says suddenly, her hands gripping Kodlak's, to hold onto that familiar feeling.

Kodlak chuckles. "Did he now? I can only hope. Do you still have the witches' heads?"

Diamond nods, smiling as Libby approaches and unlaces the burlap sack. She pulls out a head of the Glenmoril Witches, which have been kept remarkably fresh in the hall of the dead. She hands it to Diamond, gripping it by the hair.

"Thank the gods I can get that thing off. The smell of the decaying flesh was going to make me vomit." she says.

Kodlak chuckles as Libby throws the sack into the burning fire. It is devoured instantly. "Excellent." He says. "Now, you have to throw it into the fire. It will release their magic, for me at least."

Diamond steps up to the fire and carefully puts the head inside, careful not to get her fingers caught and to make sure that the witch's face is facing away from her. Libby and Aela draw their weapons, both loading an arrow. As the flame eats away at the head, there's a brief, build up. The witch's hair catches the flames, and as the hair turns to ash, the flames lick the skin and then there's a small explosion, enough that Diamond had to cover her face to block the wave of heat rushing towards her.

She hears Kodlak grunt, and she turns to find her Harbinger doubled over, holding his middle. He throws his head back and starts thrashing, howling in sudden pain. Horrifically, Diamond and the two women watch as a claw pierces through his chest and extends further into the leg of a wolf. The wolf's head emerges and roars, red maw dripping from its mouth.

Libby and Aela fire immediately and their arrows pierce the wolf in the neck. It roars and rips its way out of Kodlak. The spirit of the Harbinger falls, holding his middle, and Diamond doesn't have time to console as the spirit of the wolf heads right for her. It glows a crimson red, it's eyes two onyx wells of ink. It snarls and Diamond brings up her Warhammer in time as the beast closes its mouth around the handle.

Diamond hisses, baring her own fangs at the beast to let it know that her soul is already claimed. The beast attempts to bite her until it's kicked in the side by Libby. The wolf takes Libby's ankle in its jaw and whips its head. Libby slaps into the earth, rolling along the stone. She quickly uses the momentum to get on her feet, her silver sword drawn.

"Come on beast, let's play." She challenges.

The wolf snarls, roaring loud enough to rock the cavern. An arrow shoots in its side and as it's hissing at Aela, Libby takes her sword and starts to swing. Diamond hurries over to Kodlak, helping him to his feet and ready to lug him out of the fight arena. She almost cries at how real he feels.

His spirit beast manages to duck out of the way of Libby's swipes, and as it snaps forward to enclose its mouth around her throat, Libby flips forward across it's back, her silver lasso grabbing it by the neck. She goes to whip it across the room, but the beast digs its claws into the ground.

Libby tries to pull it, but it's too strong. Aela is shooting arrows at it, each finding their mark. Libby suddenly pounces onto the beast's back, tugging on her lasso so that the beast's head lifts up. It tries to buck her off, it's mouth whipping from side to side hoping to grab her calf. Diamond manages to get in close and delivers two blows with her hammer, in the chest and in the jaw.

Libby draws her sword, still keeping the beast tied with one hand and quickly she releases the lasso and drives her sword into the beast's eye. The wolf howls and cries and Libby flips off its back as Diamond drives the head of her Warhammer into the side of the beast's head.

The wolf spirit tumbles about now weaker than before. It can't even stand properly. Still it growls and bares its teeth in hatred. Another arrow embeds in its side and the wolf charges for Aela, the huntress dodges and rolls out of the way, Libby coming up from behind and slashing at the bones in its back. Another howl of pain.

Sparing a quick glance over to the side, Diamond is relieved to still find Kodlak's spirit there. Still weak, but on his feet. He's still here.

A sound of a heavy hit makes Diamond redirect to the battle and finds Aela skipping across the stone and into the stone wall. Libby has her lasso around the beast's neck and is again riding on its back. With both hands, she gives a hefty yank and it's strong enough to haul the beast onto its back. She wraps her legs around its middle as best she can and keeps her grip tight.

"Not Diamond, take out its heart!" she screams.

Dropping her Warhammer, Diamond rushes towards the best, drawing her silver sword. The beast it thrashing against Libby, but somehow the assassin manages to keep it in place. With a push of her powerful feet, Diamond leaps and raises her sword above her head.

With all her strength, she plunges the blade deep into the wolf's heart, mindful of Libby still beneath. The beast roars and Libby releases it. It rolls onto its side, roaring until the entire cavern shakes, Diamond's blade still stuck in its chest. It whips is head back and forth and roars once again.

A light suddenly beams from within the beast, shooting out through the hole of the sword. More light beams emerge from all over the creature's body until it grows into a burst of white light. Everyone blocks their eyes until the light fades off.

When they look, they just see the outline of the beast and the sword clangs loudly against the floor.

A calm silence fills the hall.

Diamond hurries over to Aela, who is just pushing herself to her feet and lends a hand. Libby rises up, and flexes her fingers as she winds up the lasso. They all look to one another and Diamond is the first to crack a smile and chuckle. Libby smiles next, and she lifts her head back, cackling, and Aela smiles, shaking her head. "Gods above." She mumbles.

"You have slain the beast." Kodlak speaks, and the three women regroup as he approaches. "And so slain the beast inside of me. I thank you for this gift, little cub."

Diamond smiles, her eyes watering pathetically. Kodlak opens his arms to her, and she walks into them, grateful for the warmth he still gives. She can actually still feel his armor as she rests her cheek on his shoulder, and holds tighter as can even recognize his scent.

"What about the other Harbingers?" Libby asks.

"I'm afraid they shall remain trapped by Hircine." Kodlak sighs. "But perhaps from Sovngarde, the heroes of old can join me in their rescue. The Harrowing of the Hunting Grounds. It would be a battle of such triumph."

"Perhaps we will even here it told around the fires." Aela smiles.

"And perhaps someday, you'll join us in that battle." Kodlak says as she gazes at the two girls. He returns to Diamond and caresses her cheek. "But for today, my children, return to Jorrvaskr. Triumph in your victory!"

Diamond smiles, and she's about to say something, but before she could, Kodlak speaks.

"And lead the Companions to further glory."

Her smile is immediately gone, and a numbness prickles her skin. Libby and Aela look to one another with surprise.

"Wait, wait Kodlak – what do you mean? Do you mean that I'm –" Diamond stutters, trying to find words. But before she could even finish her question, the Harbinger's form disappears, as if he never was. "Wait, no! No, Kodlak!" she calls, but there is no answer.

The air in the tomb feels emptier than it was when they entered.

Diamond is so taken aback that she's nearly startled when Libby glops her in a hug. "Oh my gods! You're the new Harbinger!" She squeals, taking Diamond's hands and excitedly hopping, but when she sees Diamond expression she ceases. "Wait, you're not happy. Why aren't you happy?"

"Did we hear him right? Did he say you were to lead the Companoins?" Aela asks.

"I guess so." Diamond stretches, still in shock.

"You've earned the right, Diamond." She says, giving a smile with, compassion. "Your strength and honor are apparent to all. And it's my honor to be the first to address you as Harbinger."

"Let's go tell the others." Libby insists.

"I don't know guys, what if this is a mistake?" Diamond asks nervously.

"Kodlak doesn't make mistakes, Diamond." says Aela.

"But I'm in no way shape or form fit to lead." She stutters. "I'm still a, a child, to everyone. I'm impulsive, and inexperienced –"

"Diamond," Libby calms. "You may resent Kodlak's decision, but perhaps he saw something in you that could lead the Companions. You've certainly proven yourself. We all know that. And in truth, you will always lack necessary experience unless given the opportunity."

"I guess."

"Diamond, I assure you this is a great honor. Now let's get out of here and tell the others." Libby as she holds out her hand. Diamond reluctantly smiles and takes Libby's hand.

The three women head up a spiral staircase towards the gates, and up another spiral staircase that leads to another pull chain, this time opening a way in the wall, and into the main entry chamber with the statue of Ysgramor.

Farkas and Vilkas are still there, talking with one another, but at the sound of the stone scraping, they each grabbed their weapons. Once seeing it was the women, they relaxed and Farkas stands up from his seat and walks over to Libby. "Seems like you've had quite the fight."

Libby shrugs nonchalantly as she wipes away the dried blood stream from her nose.

"What happened down there?" Vilkas asks.

"We cured Kodlak." Libby smiles.

"He's not a werewolf anymore? Even in death? This is a good thing!" Farkas smiles, wrapping Libby in a hug. She giggles and hugs back.

"Yes," Vilkas smiles. "You've brought honor to him, even after his death. A worthy outcome for a worthy warrior."

"Kodlak also said that Diamond should lead the Companions." Aela chimes, Diamond shushing her immediately.

"What?" Farkas asks as he detangles from Libby, though keeping his hand at the small of her back.

"Is this true?" Vilkas asks as he looks to the blonde, who already has color high on her cheeks.

"Um," she mumbles and fidgets with her fingers. "Kodlak said that I'm the new Harbinger."

There's a silence between the twins, who share expressions with one another. Finally, Farkas turns to Diamond and says, "I suppose you've earned the right. Kodlak trusted you with much, so I will say: Congratulations."

While his tone was still cold and rather distant, his wishes were sincere. Diamond looks to Vilkas, who his staring off, and when he looks to her as if sensing her gaze, he chuckles. "I wouldn't have expected someone like you to be the Harbinger, but Kodlak trusted your judgement. And so will I. I've seen what you can do. And heard of the love that Kodlak had for you. The trust. I wish luck to you, my friend."

While his words of friendship hurt her heart, she's glad to have him back. They will still need to talk about things, for she can see the pain still lingering his eyes. But for now, she will accept Kodlak's wishes, to the best of her abilities, and they shall celebrate their honor for him.

"How's the weather outside?" Libby asks.

Diamond saunters over to the doors and pries them open, only to get a swarm of snow pelting her. She immediately retreats from the doors and shakes out her head. "Um, I think it's gotten a little colder than we remember."

"It'll be much more difficult to travel back to Whiterun in this weather. And we certainly can't stay here." Vilkas says.

"Winterhold isn't exactly the most ideal place to stay either." Farkas informs.

"I have a place we could possibly stay at. And while we're there, we could send word to the others when we'll be getting back."

"Seems alright." Aela agrees. "But how will we get there in this weather?"

"I have something that might work." Libby says as she extends out her hand.

Her hand glows with a mysterious mark with a blue light at its center and so quickly, so easily, a portal opens up, about as high as an average grown man. Its inside is swirling with purple and the Companions step back, except for Diamond.

She approaches, amazed at how easily Libby opened the portal. She remembers when they were younger Libby would practice such magicka while either in the Ratways, or there were a couple of times she jointed Libby on travels to the College of Winterhold. She's gotten better.

She can feel the magic rippling through the air, its energy thick like tar. The magenta light casts the tomb in an aura of pink.

"I have a home near Falkreath. It has plenty of space, and hopefully it'll melt off the potential frostbite." She says with a nervous smile. "Just follow me."


	57. Chapter 56

After hours of delving into the cold of Ysgramor's tomb, Diamond was more than happy to walk into the comfort and warmth of Libby's home Lakeview Manor. Libby had sent out a messenger hawk to Jorrvaskr to inform the other Companions where they would be staying.

They stepped through the portal that Libby had so easily opened, and one foot went in and it came out on dew covered grass. The temperature difference made them lightheaded and immediately start to sweat underneath their layers of armor and cloaks. Aela and the twins were in awe at the magnificent sight of Libby's mansion, one of many across Skyrim. Despite that though, it was still such a loss when hers was burned down in Whiterun, along with her servants.

Along with the many servants and a bard, her steward mainly watches over the house; and the steward who so politely took their cloaks, had them sit down at the table to enjoy a luscious meal already set for them.

Diamond has only been here for a handful of times, including when she had escaped from the Faceless, and had thought Malick was dead. She broke down in a mess of tears and Libby brought her into the manor where she spent the night sleeping in Libby's bed with her, due to a fear of horrendous night terrors.

As she takes a large scoop of garlic mashed potatoes, she takes in the fact that Libby has added some extensions to the home, including an armory, a personal library, a greenhouse, a music room, and a couple more guest bedrooms. The house itself nearly resembles a small castle.

The place feels so much bigger than she remembers, and her heart hardens at the thought of Libby spending her time her alone. The emptiness felt would feel to palpable – too suffocating.

Libby told everyone where the guest bedrooms are and their attached bathrooms. This house, like her others, have their own plumbing system, and some kind of mechanism that can even run hot water to each of the bathrooms for hours. Despite what Diamond had expected, everyone was more than eager to excuse themselves to the bathrooms. Libby even went as far as to offer them spare clothing. She doesn't know where she got the men's clothes from, but Diamond was incredibly grateful for the now silk nightgown covering her legs.

Sitting closest to the fire, her hair now set in natural waves from letting it air dry, Diamond has helped herself to the large banquet of food, loving the smell of the cucumber melon soap set on her skin. Libby's expensive, wonderfully smelling soap was one of many things she missed about their friendship.

Aela is sitting across from her, then Vilkas next to Aela. On Diamond's left there's and empty seat set for Libby, then Farkas in the next. Libby was still washing up in the bathroom, but insisted that everyone start the meal without her.

Scooping another forkful of well roasted venison into her mouth, Diamond can't help but turn her head towards the double doors leading to the kitchen, of which have now been propped open. The unbelievable smells coming from that kitchen have been making her mouth water even after she tasted the first of the meal before her. On the other side of the wall where the fireplace is set, blocked by double oak doors set with windows, a pianist plays a wonderful number.

Diamond is surprised she's still hungry after hearing Kodlak's words to her. Why would he make _her_ Harbinger? Her, of all people. There are plenty other capable Companions who would be more than happy to fit the job. If no one in the Circle, then why not someone else? Vignar may be old, but he's the most experienced, member. Skjor would've been good, but he too is departed.

Lowering her spoon into her mushroom soup, Diamond reaches for the pepper. Why? That's the only thing she can keep thinking. But before she can put more thought into it, the sounds of footsteps gather their attention. Libby is walking down the steps, dressed in a lace nightgown of similar make to Diamond's, only it's a stunning cobalt and comes with a matching robe. She's fluffing her hair with her fingers, signaling she's just now finished her nightly cleanliness ritual.

Farkas smiles at her as he takes a sip of wine from his goblet. Libby smiles back as she descends. "Hope the food is good."

"It's probably the best we've had." Aela asks. "I can see why it is easy to grow accustomed to such luxuries."

"It's also easy to miss them," Libby speaks softly. "So I warn you, by the end of this night, I'll have you all wanting to spend your nights here." She grins.

Taking her seat next to Farkas, Libby thanks Vilkas as he hands her a fresh plate. A servant comes up and asks what drink she would like, but instead, Libby asks for water. The servant brings it to her moments later.

The dinner is rather quiet, everyone enjoying the food of Libby's genius cook. Her steward is off inside her personal study in her room, meanwhile the bard continues to play piece after wondrous piece. It wasn't until the piece changed to another one, one filled with complicated notes and allegros did Farkas pause his eating to lift his head and listen closer. Diamond immediately notices the grin on Libby's lips.

Farkas listens, even closing his eyes as if to see the picture the music is painting before his eyes. He opens his eyes suddenly and gasps slightly. He looks to Libby, who is not hiding her obvious smile now. She sits with her hands folded, grinning ear to ear.

"This," Farkas breaths. "This is the musical number we listened to when we went to the theatre."

Libby nods, her smile softening into sweetness. "I still haven't been able to get it out of my thoughts since."

It was a miracle that the sheets didn't get burned in the fire. It took Libby well over three months after seeing the show with Farkas to get the sheets directly from the conductor himself. She didn't use her name of Skyrim's Assassin to get them. Getting the sheets out of fear almost felt like a violation of some kind. So she went as a mere daughter of a noblemen, wooing the conductor with words of praise and how her father just adored his work. The sheets arrived later; and after the fire in her Whiterun home, she had them transported in the few trunks filled with things that had managed to survive. Including Karliah's bow and her father's sword.

The bard, skilled in piano – a priority she demanded of her steward when looking – plays the piece with such effortless talent, Libby is surprised he didn't quit when Libby kept making him play it over and over.

Farkas smiles to her, and kisses her cheek. Continuing to eat their meal, Diamond can't help but notice the quiet. It could be because they're enjoying the food so much, there isn't much to say anymore after freeing Kodlak's soul, or they don't know what to say after hearing his final words.

Diamond didn't know what to think or say; except for why. What could have possibly made him think that she would be the best leader for the Companions?

As she takes a gulp of wine, nearly moaning from the deliciousness of the taste, she's about to say something about Kodlak's decision, when there's suddenly a knock at the door. Libby is about to get up, but her steward insists she stays seated. The bard doesn't pause playing the piano, now closing to the climax of the piece.

Diamond watches as the steward approaches the entryway and opens the wide doors. She speaks with the person on the other side, unfortunately leaving the door closed enough that Diamond can't see who exactly is on the other side. She doesn't seem alarmed, maybe puzzled from the tone she's picking up. Then the steward invites them in, but keeps blocking Diamond's view until they start to come into the dining room. Diamond quickly lowers her head to avoid suspicion.

"Pardon the interruption," the Bosomer speaks softly. "But there seems to be a visitor for Mistress Diamond."

Diamond pauses her eating and looks up and watches as the steward steps away to reveal the guest.

She drops her spoon, and her gut wrenches.

Malick.

* * *

At first she didn't believe it was Malick just from the way he's dressed alone. She's grown so used to seeing him dressed in his cloak and wrappings that seeing him in regular clothes as he is now is, disorienting.

Libby doesn't seem at all surprised by his visit, in fact she seems a little on edge with the way she is staring at him.

Malick bows politely while the twins and Aela greet him, recognizing him from his visit to the hall before Libby came walking in with Zusa's head. He wears a long-sleeved shirt done in a wonderful metal grey to contrast his eyes, black pants and leather riding boots. Nothing too extravagant, but modest and still masculine. Across his body is the strap of a large leather satchel.

He looks to Diamond and smiles. Diamond smiles back, more than aware of the silk nightgown she is still wearing.

"I apologize for the interruption, but I haven't heard from Diamond in a while and I wanted to make sure everything was okay." He speaks.

"How did you know we were here?" Vilkas asks.

"I was at the hall when you sent the messenger hawk."

"Well," Libby giggles, though Diamond can sense a stiffness in her tone. "you must've bene pretty concerned about Diamond to come all the way here."

Diamond immediately blushes and clears her throat. She's about to protest, but Malick says. "I was. And I just wanted to make sure she was okay. Would it be alright if we had a moment alone?"

"What?!" Diamond exclaims.

"Sure, go ahead." Libby insists. The looks to Diamond and grins. Diamond blushes more, the color high on her cheeks. "The bedrooms are on the second floor."

"Okay." Diamond interjects, practically springing up from her chair. "I'll just be a minute."

She rounds the table and takes Malick's arm without even looking at him and leads him up towards one of the towers, the alchemy tower. She's aware of Vilkas watching them, her gut wrenching as they still need to talk about some things. But one misstep at a time. Malick doesn't say anything as they move, and Diamond insists he goes first up the ladder to the top of the tower.

Once she shuts the door, the minute she turns around, she's greeted by Malick gently gripping her arms and placing a kiss on her lips. She doesn't resist, instead, she intertwines her hands around his neck, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. She feels Malick's hands fall to her waist and pull her closer, and her knees almost buckle when she feels his tongue flick the tip of her own.

Gods above and Divines save her.

She pulls away first, giggling goofily as Malick rests their foreheads together. "Alright." She says softly. "So why did you _really_ come here?"

"You really don't believe I would come here for you?" he says with a smile. He leans back against the wooden railing, smirking in a way that is too seductive.

"Is it bad if I do? I'm not used to this kind of thing." She admits.

"Well it's the truth." Malick says as he pushes off and removes his satcheal. "I need to tell you something. It's important, but I don't think you're going to like it."

"What is it?"

Malick pauses, folding in his lips hesitantly before speaking. "It's about Libby."

Diamond's heart skips a beat.

"I attended the funeral for Kodlak, but I kept to the shadows. I wanted to make sure you were okay. And when Libby and Princess Nassari arrived, I didn't think much, until Libby started that song. Even after I left, I couldn't get it out of my head. It was just so, haunting."

Diamond understands. The entirety of Skyrim seemed to stop when Libby sang that song. Her hair still stands and her skin still crawls with goosebumps if she ever thinks about it.

"Okay," Diamond says calmly. "What about it?"

"Well," Malick sighs. "I went and did some research at the library of Whiterun. I remember you telling me how Libitania was an Imperial by blood, so I figured that the song was from something in the culture of Cyrodill." Malick rummages through his satchel and pulls out a book with a decorative border and a deep navy blue in color. "The apprentice I found said that no one in Cyrodill wrote down any of their dirges, let alone something in another language. Everyone in Cyrodill speaks the common tongue, and haven't spoken a different language for thousands of years."

"Okay. And?"

"This is where it gets interesting, but possibly disturbing." Malick opens up the book, but doesn't show Diamond what's inside. "While no one in Cyrodill spoke of a different language, the Snow Elves did."

Numbness. That's all she feels when the words breach her ears. A tingling sensation runs all around her body, and she would've collapsed to the floor had she not braced herself.

"W-What?" she mutters all too quietly.

"I found out that only the _nobility_ of the Snow Elves ever learned laments in a different tongue. And these songs were sacred to the court, so no one else knew them, and they sang it in the language of the Ancient Falmer." Malick sets the book down on the balcony rail and Diamond carefully approaches it like a venomous snake. "The songs were taught in secret, sang in the light of a full moon, far away so no one could hear them, according to rumors."

"But . . . but Libby . . ."

"She's keeping secrets again, Diamond. Which is why I've come to think: What if Libby is in league with Erelia Glendeylin? What if she has _been_ in league for a while now? I don't know how, or how long in general, but it had to have been some time for her to know such sacred songs. I found this." he turns towards a certain page number, and there lies a stanza of words organized into what can only be a song. "I'm sorry, but I snuck into her library before coming to the door, and I found this on one of the shelves; a shelf dedicated to Snow Elves and their history. It didn't take long to match the words from the alphabet paper I copied. She could have already meet up with the Queen herself."

Diamond is speechless and numb. Her heart is pounding and she has to turn away from the book, the song.

"Diamond I'm sorry. I know this wasn't really my place or my business. But I've seen what Libby's lies have done to you. And I'll be damned if she destroys you again through deception, thinking she's only protecting you." Malick says sternly.

"No, no, it's okay." Is all that Diamond can muster. Because really it is. She knew Malick's heart is in the right place, and she knew this was something big. But perhaps that's why Libby tried so hard to hide it form Diamond. Perhaps Libby has made up her mind to partake in the war and support the lost heir of the Snow Elves.

But to actually think she's been in contact with the lost queen, to have seen her and to have met her . . . Oddly enough, with everything just delivered to her, Diamond feels a little, jealous. And strangely not as upset by this secret as she has the others. Something like this is dangerous to talk about, especially in a Nord town. She'll have to get it out of Libby one way or another, for if she leaves it up to Libby, she might never be told.

Somehow, it all makes sense. Maybe that's why Kodlak so willingly indoctrinated her into the Companions. And her father knew the Ancient Falmer language like the back of his hand, keeping even his own personal journal in the language so on one else could read it. Did he know about Libby and Erelia too?

"Are you okay?" Malick asks.

"Yes, I think I will be." Diamond turns and leans against the rail, keeping a hand on her chest. "But there's no way in hell I can go back to that dinner table now."

Malick chuckles, still keeping an eye on her movements.

Someone – someone had to have known. But the only possible people who would know, are dead, or out of her reach.

_Kodlak – Kodlak had to have known_. _He must've know something. Could it be the very topic they were talking about in his quarters before Diamond interrupted_?

The now-familiar abyss inside of her stretches wider. There is no end to it, the hollow ache. No end at all. If the gods had bothered to listen, she would've traded her life for Kodlak's. It would have been such an easy choice to make. Because the world didn't need her. It needed someone like Kodlak to fight alongside Erelia Glendeylin.

But there are no gods left to bargain with; no one to offer her soul in exchange for another moment with Kodlak, just one more chance to talk to him, to hear his voice.

Yet . . . maybe she doesn't need the gods to talk to Kodlak.

Libby had summoned a portal, and she certainly didn't need any special objects to do it. Yes, she remembers Libby saying how there were spells to open temporary portals, just long enough for someone to slip through. If Libby can do such things, and if Diamond could find the right book in Libby's personal library, then couldn't _she_ open her own portal to another realm?

Her chest tightens. If there are other realms – realms where the dead dwell, in torment or in peace – who is to say she couldn't speak to Kodlak? And there was a set of ritual stones just down the hill from Libby's manor. Diamond has seen mages performing questionable rituals there.

She can do it.

No matter the cost, it will only be for a moment – just enough to ask Kodlak why he picked her as the new Harbinger, or find out if it is true that Libby could be in contact with Erelia Glendeylin, and find out what else Kodlak could've possibly known.

She can do it.

There are other things she needs to tell Kodlak, too. Words she needs to say, thanks she needs to give. And that good-bye – that final good-bye that she hasn't been allowed to make.

Diamond looks to the book, the wing blowing a set of pages to the left. "Malick, how long do you think a portal can stay open?"

"Whatever you're thinking, whatever you're going to do, it's not a good idea."

But Diamond barely listens to his words as she kisses his cheek and takes the book of the Ancient Falmer Language. She lifts up the hatch and begins to descend the tower.

He didn't understand – couldn't understand. He might've had his pain, but not like Diamond's. She's had loss after loss after loss, been denied countless good-byes. But not this time – not when she can change all of that, even for a few minutes. This time, it would be different.

She'll need steal more books from Libby's personal library; maybe books belonging to that of the Snow Elves, they were the most skilled in magic. She'll need another dagger or two, some candles, and those stones just down the hill of the house, The Conjuror's Altar, those will be perfect for the task. It has a perfect circumference and diameter, and the stones might be able to provide enough aura that she won't to make any special marks.

And her mask – the mask she gained while working in the Brotherhood. It's here, Libby has it here she knows she does. Everything is here. Everything she needs to cast the spell.

For her to open a portal into Oblivion.


	58. Chapter 57

No one was surprised when Diamond requested she go to bed early, and some of the other members even agreed to turn in early. Libby allowed Malick to stay, and even granted him to stay with Diamond in her room. even if she is grateful to have him back, bunking with him could put a hindrance on her plans since he's against her opening a portal.

She had slipped the book in her rooms before returning to the table saying she will go to bed early. Everyone wished her goodnight and no one but Malick followed her.

For the next two hours, she waited for the house to grow quiet, and after carefully scouring the all of the bedrooms, she quickly retreated and started to make her preparations. Libby was still awake; Diamond only knew from the thin ray of light coming from under her doorway. She can only hope that Libby didn't hear her, but even if she did, Libby won't stop her.

Standing in front of her vanity, she's changed into a dark tunic and pants, and managed to find black riding boots and a dark blue cloak. Malick is leaning against her balcony doors, arms crossed and continually scowling at her for going through with this decision, but she didn't care.

She had managed to sneak into the library before changing, and managed to grab two decent armfuls of books. She'll only need one or two, but it doesn't hurt to be prepared.

"Are you going to stand there all night, or actually try and help me?" she rudely says.

"I'm not happy about this." Malick says darkly.

"Well, it's not like you can change my mind. So either help me, or you can get the hell out of my way." Diamond bitterly says. She knew she can't fight Malick, but she also knew that he can't stop her. Unless he plans on pinning her down, or breaking her legs.

"Diamond I told you the information I knew so that you could be more _prepared_." He says, and lashes out his hand, gripping her by the elbow. "Not so that you can go get yourself into trouble. When will you get that through your thick, blonde, stupid skull?"

Instead of wrenching herself free, Diamond sighs and tugs a little. "Look Malick, I need you to try and understand; please. All I've ever known is loss. And I've been denied so many goodbyes to the ones I love. But if I can change that, even for a few minutes, then I will be content the rest of my life."

Malick closes his eyes, cursing upon exhale. His grip loosens and he looks to her. "You know I would do anything to make you happy, anything. But even I will not cross the line between stupidity and intentions. But you have no idea what you're up against. This magic," Malick says, taking one of the books that Diamond swiped from the library. "this is ancient, and very powerful. Did you even bother to look at the labels before you swiped them off the shelves?"

No. No, not really. She just grabbed whatever books looked legit when she found the section of magicka. She _did_ at least know that Libby kept her books in certain orders: fire, ice, telekinesis, necromancy, detect life, mind control. It surprised Diamond to know that Libby kept such books, even when she was so strongly against some of them, but supposedly it's better to know about it. No one ever said she had to practice it.

Unfortunately, she her pounding heart and frayed nerves fogged her need to check the dates. So she ended up with much of the old texts, some in the old tongue of many of the kingdoms of Tamriel. The only benefit being she recognized most of them through her tutoring with Gabrielle and Festus. Her pronunciation will be bad, and that could affect the magic. She'll have to try her best.

Malick gathers the books into his satchel and Diamond manages to find her enchanted mask at the bottom of the dresser drawer. She's rather surprised. How long has it just been here? Abandoned by both her and Libby? Malick throws on his cloak, leaving his regular clothes on, and strapping some extra weapons on him that Diamond kept hidden within the floorboards and in between the mattresses. They look tight, but he's no complaining.

Malick opens the balcony doors and surveys the area, looking left and right. She watches him leap over the balcony, and gripping it by one hand, looks down and around, checking the security. Gods, he's still so strong. He then effortlessly hauls himself back over, landing with a quiet tip of his feet. "Coast seems clear. There's a short drop to another balcony, and we could probably just hop our way down, or we could just sneak through the halls."

"No, the balconies will be fine." She says as she slings her belt of daggers to her waist along with a sword at her back, securing it tightly. Her balcony is on the third floor of the manor, and she knew what exactly what every other balcony led to, and none of them were the bedrooms of the Companions, or of Libby. "Let's go."

Her fingers found purchase in the large grey stones, and with one eye on the housecarl making her way towards the front of the house, the two of them climbed down the side of the house. No one noticed them, no one looked their way. Lakeview is silent, the calm before the storm that would break when she opened the portal to Oblivion.

For a moment, she allowed herself to feel exhilarated – climbing the walls with Malick, creating mischief with Malick. While they didn't have missions, or much time together, but to be doing something like this, in her own morbid way of thinking, it's . . . fun. She always wanted to see him at work.

Their landing was soft, no more than a whisper of boots against dew covered grass. The housecarl is over by the stables at this point that she wouldn't notice them when they climbed down the hillside towards the Conjuror's Altar.

Together they hurried towards the slope where the hill dropped to the Altar. The moonlight blankets over the area, making the surface of the lake just glitter like freshly fallen snow. Narrowing her eyes, Diamond can see a small cluster of standing stones, all somehow encased in shadows, forbidding the moon's light from touching them. There was a table at their center. From the looks of it, it's unoccupied.

Instead of trekking down the pointy and slippery rocks, Malick directs them towards the apiary, the buzz of the bees quiet. They found outcropping of ledges and exposed roots of trees to help them grapple down.

Once at the altar, keeping to the shadows, Malick makes quick work of a necromancer on his way to the alter, slicing his throat and dumping his body at a nearby wolf den.

Taking a deep breath, Diamond rummages through the satchel and finds the book she needs. Completely black with silver detailing along its spine and cover, it's a book with both old and near-accurate translated words.

With a swoop of her arm, she clears the table of the human bones the necromancer was most likely using, and sets the books aside. Carefully, her heart beating, she pulls out her mask and sets it onto her face.

When she opens her eyes, things seem the same, but she can feel her energy shifting.

Drawing a dagger, Diamond takes a deep breath, making herself aware of Malick setting up the candles. Quickly, she cuts across her bicep, wincing before she feels the warmth of the blood pool forward.

Dipping her finger in the blood, Diamond lowers it to the top of the table, and begins to draw.

* * *

Someone is standing at the foot of her bed. Libby knew that before she even opens her eyes, and she eases her hand beneath her pillow, pulling out the dagger she keeps tucked into her headboard. Farkas' warmth is real, the mass of his body lying beside her a solid security for her; her little tether to reality, and to ensure she is not dreaming.

"That's unnecessary." A woman says, "And would be wholly ineffective."

A shiver runs down Libby's spine as she sits upright to find the owner of the voice.

She is beautiful beyond reckoning. Her silver hair flowing around her youthful face like a river of moonlight. Her eyes are a crystal, sparkling blue, and her skin as white as alabaster. And her ears are sharply pointed.

Her blood freezes at the sight of the shimmering specter of the first Queen of the Snow Elves.

Though she looked fully formed, the edges of her body gleam as though made from starlight. Her long, silver hair flows around her beautiful face, and her face is etched with concern and urgency that makes Libby want to run to the unknown location she can feel the queen trying to tell her.

"Hello, child." She still spares, her voice light, but echoing with mystery.

"What's wrong?" Libby asks, almost needing to hear what the Queen has to say, feeling her time is short.

"You must hurry. For a line that should never be crossed is about to be breached." She says, Libby slowly sliding out of the covers. "It will put the life of your friend in jeopardy. Hurry _now_, child, or lose her forever."

Libby already knew the answer. Like a spark of lighting, everything connects and she is already shaking Farkas awake. He moans but when he hears her voice, he practically leaps from his spot at the bed.

Libby can only tell him to hurry and get dressed before she yanks on clothes, grabs her sword belt and sprints from her rooms.

Her feet seem to know where to go before she does, and they bring her to the library, straight towards the section where she keeps her magicka books. Her heart sinks when she finds a handful of them gone.

Swearing profusely, she bolts for Diamond's rooms. Libby throws them open, gaping in terror. The bedroom is empty. The balcony doors have been left open, and an ominous breeze whips the gossamer drapes to and fro.

"Libby what's wrong?" Farkas calls as she hears him heading for the door.

But Libby is already running out, shouting to him. "Get the others!"

She charges through the halls, down the steps and sprinting around the back of Lakeview. Even from where she was, she could see a flash of eerie green light.

"Gods, no. _No._"

* * *

The cut on Diamond's arm throbs, but she keeps her finger steady as she dips her finger into it again and again, tracing the mystic marks of Oblivion on the tabletop; making sure to copy them with perfect precision. Her blood gleams in the light of the candles.

She knew each symbol has to be perfect, flawless, or else it won't work even with the magic words. She keeps pressing on the wound to keep it from clotting. Drawing another symbol, her heart begins to beat faster as it is nearly finished. Malick's footsteps sound loud to her as he scours the perimeter for any signs of danger.

There is one mark left to draw, the one that would bring her the person she so desperately needs to see, if only for a moment. It's more complex than she remembers, a weave of loops and angles. She took out chalk and practiced until she got it right, then trace dover it with the blood. Kodlak's name in ancient text.

She examines the table and steps back, the book in her clean hand. Clearing her throat, trying to steady her breathing, Diamond begins to read the words on the page.

She doesn't know the language well, and her throat burns and contracts, as if fighting the sounds, but she pants through it, the words stealing her breath and making her teeth ache like biting down on iron after a long run.

And then the final words are out, her eyes watering.

Nothing.

The pain inside her still throbs throughout, like her body is a giant heartbeat. She stares at her blood, still the same color as before. Nothing glowing, nothing changing.

Perhaps it needs time. The books didn't specify how long it would take.

So Diamond waits.

The longer she stares, the more the sight of her own blood is making her sick. Malick's footsteps come up behind her and she looks to him. "Why isn't it working?" she asks with a quiver in her tone.

Malick shrugs. "I don't know. I'm not much of one to delve in magic."

There's scraping of footsteps to their left.

In the light of the candles, Libby's weapons gleam, her face shadowed in horror. "What are you doing?"

Malick has his daggers drawn and leveled at Libby in a heartbeat, sheltering Diamond behind him. Behind Libby Diamond can see Farkas and Aela and Vilkas, dressed with weapons ready. Farkas growls at Malick, but keeps back, a step behind Libby.

"What do you think you're doing?" Libby repeats.

"Libby, please, don't interfere." Diamond says, unfazed by the fact she's cowering behind Malick.

"Diamond, you have no idea what you're up against." She says, trying to suppress to anger in her tone and bring forth the compassion. "This stuff is dangerous." She says, taking careful steps towards her. Malick holds his ground, twirling the daggers between his fingers. He settles on a grip to where he can easily cut Libby from navel to nose.

"Don't come any closer." Diamond demands.

"Diamond this is folly!" Vilkas chimes. "You need to stop."

Libby's eyes flick to Malick, cold anger hardening her features. "How could you let this happen? I thought you were supposed to be the smart one." She growls.

Diamond glances at the marks. Nothing is happening anyway. Perhaps this was all a lost cause. She inches closer to table and reaches out her hand. She runs it over the marks, making to wipe them away.

"You are the one responsible for most of her loss." He dares. "The least you could do is allow her some kind of closure!"

"There are better ways than this! Do you not understand –" she pauses and looks to Diamond. "What are you doing?"

Diamond draws her own dagger with her free hand, furiously wiping at the marks. They don't budge. She wiped harder. Oh, it is all terribly wrong.

"Diamond, stop!" Libby lunges, getting past Malic's guard with unnatural ease as she grasps Diamond's arm. "You're going make it worse."

"Let go of me." Diamond growls, scared of her own voice and how deep it becomes.

Libby makes her face tender and soft and bittersweet. "Diamond, I understand. Believe me I do, but there are better – safer – ways to reach Kodlak. Please, don't do this, you'll only make things worse."

No. She will not be ordered around like a, like a kid. Even if a part of her screams that this is all for nothing, even when her brain sees that nothing is working, a foolish part of her, a rebellious part of her wants to dislocate Libby's arm. She won't take this away from her.

Libby didn't see the dagger coming until Diamond shoved it into her.

But Libby is fast – too fast – and turns just in time to have it pierce her shoulder instead of her heart.

She . . . she aimed for her heart? How could she? In Diamond's mind, it was supposed to only be an intimidating cut. Why did she . . .?

Libby staggers back with dazzling speed, wrenching Diamond's dagger so swiftly that Diamond loses grip on the blade and has to brace a hand on the edge of the table to keep from stumbling. Farkas is about to lunge, the orange of his wolf eyes gleaming, but with a high-pitched whistle from Libby keeps him in place.

Diamond goes for another dagger, ignoring the warmth of the Libby's blood on her hand. Somehow, deep inside, a dark and sinister part of her is rejoicing. She has never been able to land a single hit on Libby since, well since they were children. Libby always saw everything coming, knew every move Diamond was about to make before she even knew herself. Libby was always better, but this time, she finally managed to get her.

Diamond swipes her arm and Libby ducks, driving her fist into the side of Diamond's ribs. Grunting in pain Diamond keeps her arms up to block Libby's other fist that would've knocked her out. Quickly, she spins snaps out her arm and whips. Libby squeals and stumbles back, Farkas behind her in a heartbeat.

Her hand is on her neck and Diamond watches in awe and horror as blood dribbles through her palm and fingers and down her arm. Libby removes her hand, sees it tainted in red and looks up to Diamond in horror and extreme hurt. There's a cut from the tip of Diamond's dagger. It's nothing too dip, but it will scar. Looking down at the blade, the tip is tainted with blood. Libby's blood.

Diamond's stomach churns. Her teeters back into the table, rattling its contents. Then her eyes flick downward and she sees it. A splatter trail of Libby's blood. From her shoulder and from the cut on her neck. Following the trail, it leads right onto the marks she had drawn on the table.

In a matter of heartbeats, the marks seem to, absorb, Libby's blood and they begin to glow. Diamond steps back in awe, and no one moves, but Libby's expression is pure horror and terror.

One after another the marks lit up green, until the entire table is a line of light. The magic seeps down the table and slowly crawls up the stones until they glow green too, and then the stones around the border darken, darken, darken, then disappear. The marks then lift themselves as a whole off of the table and tilt until it sits vertically, and staring at her.

The blackness within the green archway seems to reach out for her.

It had worked. Holy gods, it had actually worked.

Is this Oblivion? Is this what await some of the dead? Kodlak couldn't have gone _here_.

She takes a half step closer. "Diamond!" Libby calls, her voice raw from the cut.

"Kodlak?" she whispers to the void.

There is nothing. Nothing there – just a void.

Diamond looks to the book, still somehow clean, then to the portal, the symbols she drew. She wrote it correctly, the spell was right, no matter how stumbled her words were. "Kodlak?" she whispers towards the endless dark.

There is no response.

The longer she stares at the void, the more she feels like it is staring back. She could feel its energy wafting towards her, enticing her.

Diamond lowers her head and whispers to the dark. "Please."

There's shuffling behind her and she turns to find Malick approaching her and Farkas helping Libby to her feet, his eyes still telling he's more than ready to smear Diamond's blood across the stones.

Malick sets a hand on her shoulder, and when he gives her a soft pull, she follows. She looks to him, sorrow in her eyes and he tickles her chin with his finger, offering a soft smile.

Then she watches his eyes flick to the still warm portal behind her and his eyes widen, brows lifting. Diamond immediately whirls around, and everything stops as she beholds the shimmering figure standing just on the other side of the portal.

"By the gods," Aela breaths.

The edges of Kodlak's body ripple and blur and wave like water, fracturing with some kind of inner light. His face is clear. His face – it's his face; with its war paint and scars and wrinkles. Diamond sinks to her knees.

She feels the warmth of tears before she realizes she is crying. "Kodlak, please." is all she can say. "Please."

Libby, still holding her shoulder, pressing onto the wound, approaches. The cut on her neck already clotting. Kodlak remains on the other side of the portal, casting his gaze at those gathered around.

"I shall not cross this line, little cub. And neither shall you." He says gently to Libby. He looks to Diamond, his eyes hard and almost cold. "I thought you were smarter than this."

Diamond blinks, more tears running down her cheeks. The light from Kodlak didn't breach past the portal, as if there really was some king of line dividing them. it was so contrasting compared to the darkness of Oblivion. Perhaps he'd come all the way from Sovngarde.

"I'm sorry, Kodlak," she whispers. "But please I need you to –"

"I have no time to explain everything to you now, little cub. I only came here to bring you a warning. You _must not_ open this portal again. For it you do, it will not be I who answers your call. And none of you will survive the encounter. No matter how deep your grief is, no one has the right to cross such lines."

Diamond's lip quivers, her heart aching as she's being scolded. "I didn't know. I didn't mean to."

Libby hesitantly approaches the portal, hissing in pain. Everyone's eyes widen as the energy of the portal seems to leech more of her blood straight from her wounds. They drift towards the portal in ribbons of red, but Kodlak holds up his hand and the blood stops and dissipates into nothingness.

"I think we've had enough bloodshed tonight, have we not?" Kodlak says, sparing a gentle grin. He looks to Libby and his eyes soften, almost a type of sadness on his features. "Good-bye, my dear friend." He says to the assassin and then begins to walk into the blackness.

Diamond rises to her feet, just staring, unable to think. Her throat burns with so many pent-up words, the words that are now choking the lift out of her. It can't end like this. He cannot leave her with nothing! And giving Libby something! After everything they've been through he can't spare her –

"Diamond," Kodlak pauses to look back at her. The void starts to swirl, swallowing him up bit by bit. "You will not understand yet, but I knew what my fate was to be. I knew it, and I embraced it. I ran towards it. For it is time that things change around Skyrim, and unfortunately, it involves some sacrifice. But no matter what I did, Diamond, my little cub. I want you to know what I will cherish the time we had. I will carry it with me to Sovngarde, and hold you in my heart until the day that we are reunited." His eyes flick to Libby, and he turns full towards them, speaking to both of the girls. "You both have your parts to play. And you must not let your bond, your strength, go out. Together, you two can change all of Tamriel."

And before any of the girls can reply, the Harbinger is gone.

There is nothing but the darkness. As though Kodlak had never been. As though it had all been their imagination.

"Come back." Diamond whispers. "Please – come back." Yet the darkness remains. And Kodlak is gone.

Diamond just stands there, ignoring the sound of footsteps approaching her. Libby stands at her side, the smell of her blood reaching Diamond's nostrils. Turning to Libby after a moment of calm quiet, her stomach sinks at the sight of how bloodied she had become. Her crimson-tainted hand still holding the wound in her shoulder.

She didn't get answers. She didn't have the time or the sense. And she won't get another chance. But . . . but she has to accept Kodlak's words. Even if he left her with more questions than answers.

_I knew my fate_.

Did he really know how was going to die? It wouldn't really surprise her; while he was here, she and Kodlak did have conversations about how he had such vivid dreams about Sovngarde and such. But could he really have had a vision about his death, and didn't tell her?

She'll think about it later. Right now, she wants to focus on the feeling of lightness all around her. Somehow, the encounter lifted several weights off of her shoulder. she can feel more coming soon once she gives everything more thought. But, Kodlak wanted them to be together.

Something in his words told both of them about their destiny. But could they really change Tamriel? What could they do? An Assassin and a Warrior.

Libby gives a small half smile. Diamond's heart aches as she still stares at the cuts. Something wasn't right when she attacked Libby. "I'm sorry." she mumbles. "I'm so sorry."

"It's alright." Libby says back ever so softly. She jerks her chin towards the portal. "Magical influence. It's no wonder why this kind of power was forbidden." She looks to Diamond and smiles. "Now, let's try and close this and get back to the house."

"Maybe let me close it, you should take care of your wounds." Diamond insists as Libby picks up the book.

Libby gives a dismissive wave of her hand. "Don't worry about it. We've both been through worse."

But then a shudder runs through the ground, the stones rumbling, and something in the void makes a sound. A guttural growl.

Libby immediately grabs Diamond by the elbow and practically yanks her away from the portal. Malick and Farkas have their hands on the girls' shoulders and herd them behind them.

The void shifts, mist now swirling inside, parting long enough to reveal rocky, ashen ground. And then a figure merge through the mist.

"Kodlak?" Diamond whispers. He has come back – come back to help and answer her questions.

But it was no Kodlak who stepped through the portal.

Blue light flashes, bright enough they had to cover their eyes. Another bone-grinding growl sounds. The light fades and a human scream echoes – it's female. Libby. A roar shakes the ancient stones.

Out of the blackness something strikes out and nails Libby. Diamond screams her name as she watches Libby fly backwards at stomach-churning speeds and crash into some rocks and flip across the ground before sliding to a still stop. She doesn't move.

Looking back everyone draws their weapons and Diamond nearly screams again at the sight of the monster. Something out of an ancient god's nightmare.

Skeletal in appearance, it's skin is pale grey, looking as if it's been pulled taught against its body. The creature's spine has been disfigured, resulting in a hunchback appearance. Its teeth are sharp and jagged, protruding from its gums, its jaw looking unhinged. Its corded with muscle, limbs longer than anything human, nails long and bony knuckles. Its eyes are milky white, the iris looking as if it is shielded by frosted glass. It has no hair, only slight strands growing on liver spots on the scalp. Gross scabs leak puss and spits of blood, the overwhelming smell making Diamond's throat bob ready to cough.

Without thinking, Malick if the first to launch at the creature, a dagger and sword in each hand. Diamond hollers at him, and watches as Farkas nearly sprints towards Libby. Gripping her sword, she curses herself for not bringing her Warhammer with her.

Malick sidesteps the creature's first punch, impaling its fist into the ground. He then leaps onto the creature's arm and hurries upwards, swinging his dagger and managing to cu the creature on the side of its head. It roars and as Malick leaps off, it wrenches its hand free and grabs Malick, then slamming him heavily into the ground.

"Malick!"

An arrow whizzes by her head and lands in the creature's arm and Vilkas is charging, wielding his broadsword. The creature roars, bearing its large snakelike fangs and dripping maw that reeks of venom.

Vilkas swipes for the creature and it blocks his sword, but Vilkas quickly spins out and lashes his blade out again. It cuts across his forearm. Malick staggers upwards and as the creature roars. It raises its massive hand and Malick and Vilkas manage to both leap out of the way as it crashes its fist into the ground again.

Diamond jerks her head towards Aela, who is still firing arrows, towards the two men she's come to love, and over towards where Farkas is still helping a limp Libby rise to her feet. Blood streams down from a cut on Libby's temple.

A new kind of rage takes over. This rage feels, different. It is not powered by hatred and loss. But rather, love and courage. This thing hurt Libby, and she has others around her to make it pay, to fight alongside other warriors.

Kodlak told her to never give up on Libby. And Libby has never given up on Diamond. Even after everything they have been through.

She understands now.

Lifting her sword high, Diamond charges for the creature.

* * *

Libby grunts as she feels Farkas' massive hands attempt to lift her body, which seem to not be listening to the commands of her brain. Farkas puts his hands on her head and neck, and Libby struggles to her feet. Her head aching even more.

There's a rip of clothing and a yelp of pain, and she looks at Diamond in time to see her grasp the cut on her shoulder, inflicted by the filthy, sharp nails of the demon. The creature roars, its overlong jaw gleaming with saliva. It lunges for Diamond.

Neither her or Farkas are fast enough, but her magic is.

Something invisible slams into the creature, sending it flying into the standing stones with a crunch. Faraks looks to Libby, her eyes glowing an icy blue, hand outstretched.

The creature crumples but instantly gets up, whirling towards her and Farkas. Through the portal she can hear the rocky earth crunching beneath more pairs of bare, pale feet.

In an instant, Libby pushes to her feet and with Farkas' help, run towards the group as Malick attacks the creature again. It surges towards him just before his sword strikes, swiping with those long fingers, forcing the assassin to dart back.

Vilkas and Diamond is sent flipping back as the creature swipes its arms, forcing them back as they went for its sides. Diamond slides to a stop just at Farkas and Libby's feet. "We have to close the portal." She says. "It should close on its own eventually, but – but the longer we keep it open, the greater the threat will come."

"How?"

"We need that book." Libby states, her head spinning so badly her knees wobble. "I – I think I can close if it just . . ." she stumbles in Farkas' grasp.

"You're in no shape to take on that thing. Let alone read a book that drains energy."

"It doesn't matter. I'm the only one here with magic in their blood. Which means only I can read the spell that will send the creature back to where she came from."

"Wait, what do you mean magic in the blood?" Diamond asks.

"The spells of the book only work for those with power in their blood. A long line of magic traced in the bloodline of families."

"Which is why it didn't work for me." Diamond concludes.

Libby nods and looks to Farkas. "We need you and the Companions to distract the creature while me and Diamond try to get that book." Libby says, gesturing to the spell book that has been thrown across the ways from the battle.

"You can't possibly –" Farkas protests.

"I'll be fine, Farkas, I just need minutes to heal. You four need to keep that thing distracted."

Farkas looks to the girls, then to Malick, Aela and Vilkas fighting the demon. Malick has managed to somehow get his legs around the creature's neck and raises his sword high, driving deep into the creature's eye. It roars and screeches like an owl and Malick flips off in time for Aela to shoot another arrow in its chest. But the creature doesn't give up.

Instead, it swings its arm forward, grabbing Vilkas like a doll and lifts him high before slamming him into the ground. It's about to crush him, but Farkas comes sprinting in and distracts it. as it punches its hand into the ground, nearly missing him, Farkas slides towards its back and drives his blade into its spine. It screams again and Farkas manages to leap and roll out of the way of its hand.

"Let's go." Diamond says as she watches the warriors fight the demon.

Libby nods, her hands glowing that warm gold color, her hands fisting. She barely manages to heal her head wound when Diamond screams at her to look out and tackles her to the side; Malick tumbling back and rolling along in the dirt, his sword and dagger clattering around him.

Diamond lugs Libby's arm over her good shoulder and starts to lead her around towards where the books still lies. Libby seems to have better footing, but now Diamond's injury is more noticeable. The creature had also managed to cut around her ankle when it swiped for her shoulder, but it wasn't noticeable until she put weight on it.

The others were doing a good job by distracting the creature. They surround it now, weapons drawn, Malick a little wobbly, but still conscious enough to fight. the creature snarls, taking in each opponent. Intelligence. It snarls and takes careful steps back.

She was so focused on getting to the book that she heard Libby scream her name last minute, startled since she was close to her ear. The shift in the air was enough for Diamond to whirl and shove Libby far enough in time as the creature's hand grips around her head and lifts her high.

Libby's scream echoes through the fields as it slams Diamond into the ground first, then again and then spins, whirling her into the standing stones. Diamond screams in agony, nearly breaking Libby's heart. Blood now pools freely from the wound on her shoulder, and Libby couldn't look at the way her ankle is dislocated.

The creature approaches her, and raises its arm to block an arrow shot by Aela. The twins, Malick and Aela desperately try to call and distract it.

But the creature looks to Libby.

And there is nothing anyone could do, absolutely nothing, as the creature whirls, grabbing Diamond by her injured leg, and drags her through the portal with it.

Libby's scream is still echoing throughout the plains as Farkas lunges forward and hurtles through the misty portal after Diamond.


	59. Chapter 58

Libitania thought she knew the meaning of fear. It has haunted her for her entire existence – whether as a threat, or as her own title. But it was nothing compared to what went through her when Farkas ran through the portal after Diamond.

Her feet were already on their way towards the portal, and she threw daggers at anyone who dared to step in before her. All missed their spots, but scared the members enough to make them pause.

She almost didn't care if she did hurt them. She didn't care about anything at this point. Only Diamond and Farkas as she sprints across those few yards. She has to get them out, get them back before the portal shuts forever.

She is through the portal in a heartbeat.

And when she sees Farkas, set in his wolf-form shielding Diamond with nothing but his bare claws, she doesn't think twice before she unleashes the monster inside of her.

* * *

From the corner of her eye, Diamond saw Libby coming, the sword of her father in her hands and her face set with feral rage.

The moment she burst through the portal, something changed. It is like a fog lifting form her face, making her features sharper, her steps becoming longer and more graceful. And her ears – her ears shift into sharp points. Her hair suddenly grew like fire, but rippling like waves. And it's like the mortal world of Skyrim, its energy is leeching the color from her hair, leaving it a stunning silver, like moonlight.

The creature, bloodied and sensing it's about to lose its kill, makes a final lunge for Farkas and Diamond.

Diamond yelps as it's blasted away by a wall of blue fire.

The fire vanishes upon touch to reveal the creature slapping into ground, flipping again and again. It's on its feet before it even stops rolling, whirling towards Libby in the same move.

Libby stands in between them now, sword raised. She roars, revealing elongated canines, and the sound is unlike anything Diamond has ever heard. There is nothing human in it.

Because Libby isn't human, not even in the way she gets when she's consumed by anger. At least there, some remanence of humanity lives inside. But this time, there is nothing at all.

Diamond gapes up at her from where she lies, sheltered behind Farkas.

No – she isn't human at all.

Libby is Falmer.


	60. Chapter 59

Libby knew the shift had happened, and it hurt like hell. The moment her feet stepped through the portal, she could feel the pain – same as being devoured and burned alive – crept up her leg and through the entirety of her body.

Her body screamed in pain as she could feel her skin ripping away from herself. Peeling back like a snake shedding skin, to reveal her features hidden beneath. The demon lunges for Diamond, and Libby digs down into the endless well overflowing with magic now.

Magic, she didn't just have it – she has _raw_ magic. The rarest, and deadliest kind. Sheer undiluted power, capable of being shaped into whatever form the wielder desires. And right now, she desires destruction. Fire – raw and unforgiving, erupts out of her.

She can smell everything, hear everything and see everything. her heightened senses pull her attention every which way, telling her that there is nothing good about this world, and she needs to get out _now_. But she will not leave Diamond and Farkas – of whom the world itself has transformed Farkas into his wolf form, but not Diamond. Somehow the question _why_ forms in her head, barely poking through her sense as she runs for them. Diamond and Farkas have beast blood, why didn't she transform? It couldn't be out of will, not if Libby didn't have a choice, but Diamond did have more control over her form.

The creature stopped rolling, on its feet in an instant, and Libby puts herself between it and Farkas. The demon sniffs at her, sinking into its haunches now.

Libby lifts her father's sword and bellows her challenge, deep and guttural like an animal.

Far off on the misty horizon, roars answered. One coming from her opponent in front of her.

She looks to Farkas, still in wolf form and crouched over Diamond, who stares at her with sheer horror. She bares her teeth, her canines glistening in the grey light. She could smell Diamond's terror and her awe. Smell her blood, human but still not ordinary with her beastblood.

Libby's magic continues to well up more and more and more, near ready to erupts like the Red Mountain. Uncontrollable, ancient, and burning. It feels like an actual living thing, and it wants _out_.

"_Get out_." she snarls, more like a plea than a command. Because her mind is clear, but smothered with the feeling of power, and she's likely to hurt them just as much as she will hurt this creature. And the portal only has a certain amount of time before it closes.

She doesn't wait to see what Farkas does. She growls once more and charges for the creature. It charges her, gaining immense speed now that it's in its own world. Gathering the power of her magic, she throws her arm put to punch and a wave of raw power surges forward, a phantasmal crest that the creature dodges, then the next, but not the third.

Libby swings her father's sword and manages to drive it into the creature's side. It roars and she leaps back. The roars in the distance are getting louder, closer.

She can hear crunching rock behind her and she knew Farkas was making his way towards the portal. He must be carrying Diamond; her ankle not looking too good.

The demon starts pacing, its maw dripping with saliva. The crunching stops and Libby knew Farkas was through the portal. He is safe. This thing is too fast, to smart – and if more like it are coming, if they make it before the portal closes . . .

Libby starts to back towards the portal, feeling her magic rumbling and building again. She needs to stop this thing. She can't kill it, not with the time limit of the portal. In this world, she has little control over her magic, but she does have a sword – her father's enchanted sword. It can withstand magic.

Not giving herself enough time to think it through, her magic near the brim until she thinks she can breathe fire, Libby throws all of her power into the violet sword. It's blade glows icy blue, its edges crackling with lightning.

The creature tenses, sensing the impending wave. Libby lifts the sword over her head, and with a harrowing battle cry that rattles the world, she drives the sword into the earth.

The ground crackles towards the demon, a burning web of lines and fissures.

And then the ground begins to collapse between them. Foot by foot, the creature starts to sprint away. Thunder crackles around her, the earth quaking as she falls to her knees.

Soon there is nothing but a small lip of land surrounding Libitania, an ever growing chasm before her. Wrenching her father's sword free, she tries to make her body move, reminding herself she needs to get out, _now_. But as she tries to stand to her feet, her knees buckle beneath her and she falls into the ashy earth.

And then there are strong hands under her shoulders, hands she knew so well, lifting her easily and carrying her back through the portal and into Skyrim.

But even so, even as she could feel the portal slowly closing around her, she doesn't feel the shift back into her frail mortal body.

Farkas hauls Libby through the portal, knowing she's conscious, but like a dead weight in his arms. He couldn't help but stare at her, stare at the woman he's come to love so much, reborn in a new skin. Or perhaps old skin, one she never seemed – or never wanted to touch.

Her silver hair is straight like a pin, even the gentlest breeze sending strands billowing around her head and slipping over her shoulders. Her pointed ears stretch past her hair, sharp but delicate. And her skin, pale compared to the tan she earned during the summer. Skin as white as snow.

Needless to say he was more than happy to be back in Skyrim, the uncontrollable shifting into his beast form was more than a little disturbing. That world is powerful, but it is also very, very, _very wrong_. Thankfully he didn't shift again when he went to retrieve Libby from the world, after that powerful burst of magic, he's surprised she didn't burst into flames.

Diamond is arguing with Aela, who is trying to patch the wound of her ankle, but Diamond keeps frantically insisting she needs to get Libby. She looks up and her eyes widen as Farkas steps through with Libby, Vilkas immediately there to assist, but Farkas informs him to be gentle. Libby is conscious in his arms, but slack like the dead.

Aela manages to bind Diamond's ankle before she limps over to Farkas who lies Libby down gently on the ground. Gods, Diamond almost stumbles as she beholds Libby, in her Falmer form. She still can't grapple it, even as she stares at her right now.

Libby is a Falmer.

Her silver hair puddles around her body, its length long and thick. Her skin is white as alabaster, but her eyes – her are still Libby's eyes. An emerald green with a ring of gold around it. This is still Libby; she has to remember this.

Malick was right. He just had to be.

Why else would Libby have such valuable information on Erelia Glendeylin? It all starts to make sense right down to the moment that she overheard them talking about the lost heir in Jorrvaskr. Her reaction, her mannerisms. Her attitude towards the war, towards Erelia. Of course she would stay and fight for her long lost queen. Was Libby alive during the time of the slaughter . . .

And her mother . . . Did she never wish to talk about her mother because of the horrible memories that followed?

There are so many questions Diamond wants to ask, but they have to wait as Libby struggles to sit up.

Diamond crouches down next to her, but doesn't reach out. Whatever wounds Libby had before, they have all been healed. Probably due to the magic in the portal – all except for that large scar tracing down her eye, the scar inflicted upon by Diamond.

"H-How do you feel?" Faraks asks, swallowing back the stutter in his voice.

"A little groggy, but otherwise fine." She says. Her voice is still Libby, but Diamond just can't get past the elongated canines and the pointed ears. And the hair that flows like a silver waterfall. "But we need to close the portal." She says, struggling to get to her feet.

"You are _not_ doing anything until you're better." Farkas instructs. "You can barely stand."

"You said it'll close on its on anyway." Diamond reminds.

"Yes, but I don't know how long it'll take, and how many more of those creatures could come through before it closes entirely."

As if on cue, the roaring in the distance grows louder. No doubt more of those things will find a way to get through.

"Do you even have anything left to close the gate?" Malick asks, handing Libby a canteen of fresh water. Even his face seems etched with disbelief.

"I think I do. Some semblance of my energy is returning. It shouldn't take much to draw marks." Libby insists, slowly pushing herself to stand. She wobbles slightly, Farkas holding out his arms ready to catch her, but she regains balance.

"Aela, fetch her the book." Malick says.

Diamond watches as Aela willingly obeys Malick and run to get the book that Libby needed, somehow it was still in its place where it was tossed. She picks it up, carefully handling it like it's the heart of daedra. She quickly hands the book to Libby and she easily flips through the pages and finds the one where Diamond first used the spell.

She peels off the sleeve of her one bloodied shoulder, licking and wiping away the clotted blood to reactivate the wound. Sure enough blood flows forward and Libby dips her finger into her own blood. She didn't realize how cold her body is until her blood warms her fingers.

Diamond stands close by, ready to catch Libby as she continues to keep swaying here and there, but she braces herself against the table. She dips her finger into her blood, and one by one she draws the sealing marks over the green-glowing symbols. Her knees buckle as she traces the last of the symbols. A lingering roar echoes through the damned world of Oblivion as the final symbol flares, the mists and rock and ravine fading into nothing.

Libby keeps her breathing steady, throwing all of her focus into that. If she could just keep breathing, she wouldn't fall apart. Farkas approaches the two girls, catching Libby since Diamond's hurt ankle would've sent them both tumbling to the ground.

Farkas and Malick scoop up the girls, Libby more than relieved to feel the pressure off of her feet. She sighs, the familiar anger leaving her body, replaced only by bone-deep weariness and sorrow. An invisible burden that no one can begin to imagine makes her shoulders slump. She slowly blinks and angles her head upwards.

"I owe you an explanation." She whimpers.

Farkas doesn't say anything, merely kisses her forehead and holds her as close as he could. He could see it in her eyes – there is nothing in them, as though she had been hollowed out. She just looked so exhausted.

Libby looks to Diamond as Malick examines her ankle while he holds her. Diamond looks to her, soul-ripping guilt all over her features, her beautiful blue eyes sparkling. Libby offers a weak smile and extends out her arm, even when her bones feel so stiff. Diamond reaches out to her as well, and the two girls link their fingers together.

Her stomach twitched at the sight of how much paler she's become, wondering why she hasn't reformed back to her human skin after she came back through the portal. Strands of her silver hair falling over her shoulder and rippling across her arm when she moves.

Libby and Diamond both rest their heads against the arms of their men, and the two men don't walk far enough apart that their bond doesn't break. The girls keep holding hands as they make their way back to the manor.

* * *

Libby refused to let the healers even look at her until she knew that all of the other warriors were taken care of. She remained in the doorway, arms crossed at her chest while the healers examined each and every person. She didn't really need a healer, when the magic had taken over her, her instincts kicked in and everything was healed. All that was left of her wounds were bloodstains and torn clothing. And exhaustion – total exhaustion.

So she excused herself to the bathroom, shucked off her clothes and bathed, scrubbing herself until it hurt and washing her now long hair twice. She watched the blood swirl down the drain with sweet-smelling bubbles, thinking about how gross her toenails looked and how she should get them done. It's the simple thoughts that keep her from losing her mind.

When she was finished, she slips into a soft, clean silk nightgown and robe. She combs out her dripping hair, and wrings it out in her towel before emerging into the living room where the warriors are sitting on the plush furniture, waiting for her. The men are sitting shirtless, probably so that the healers could treat their minor wounds. As for Diamond and Aela, they put their shirts back on, the white of the bandages peeking through the rips of the dark cloth.

All eyes went to her as she entered, some of their expressions make it seem like they are seeing her for the first time in this form. Libby runs the tip of her tongue over her elongated canines as she makes her way around towards the next available armchair next to Diamond.

The blonde Companion's ankle is bandaged and looking good and Diamond shifts towards her as Libby sits, a gentle reminder she is here. Libby takes a quaking breath. "Where do I start?" She speaks quietly.

"From the beginning." Farkas answers, his voice just as quiet.

"Even then it's too painful." Libby says, looking down at her knees and clenching her fists. Her still wet hair falls forward, shielding part of her face. "It was my great-grandfather, who was a Snow Elf. On my mother's side. I inherited the ability to shift from her, only it's between my human form and Elf form.

"And you can't shift anymore?" Malick asks, the details of his intricate tattoo impressive now that his shirt doesn't cover it.

"I've always had the ability to shift, but at the time and even still now, there was no real reason to change back. My father knew the spell, and casted it on me while we . . ." Libby chokes up and Diamond leans closer, reaching out her hand. "while we were fleeing during the time of the slaughter. He knew the Nords wouldn't stop until _every_ Snow Elf was dead. He did it to protect me, and it's what saved my life. Through the years as I grew, and after his death, I almost never wanted to shift back into my elf form, only because it held so many horrid memories. Sometimes I would do it late at night, in the Ratways so I knew no one could see. But when I looked at myself . . . I hated it."

"Does your Guild know?" Farkas asks.

"Only those my father trusted closely."

Diamond swallows thickly. So Karliah and Brynjolf . . . and Mercer Frey too before Libby gutted him.

"What about in that, other world? You could . . ." Aela trails off.

"Yes, something like magic exists in that world, and it's still as awful and overwhelming as I remembered." Libby leans back into the chair, bringing her knees up and to her chest despite her nightgown. She looks to Diamond, her emerald eyes gleaming. "It was like I had no control over the shift, or the magic, or anything. And I was afraid I would hurt you both as badly as that creature." Her hands are shaking a bit, and she tries to hide it by fiddling with the ends of her hair. Her long, silver hair iridescent in the light of the fireplace. Beautiful.

"Does Nassari know about you?" Vilkas asks.

"No. And frankly, I don't know if I ever could tell her. It would only make her become more up my ass about the rebel movement."

It all made sense. Everything. It explained why she never spoke of her mother, why she never said anything about where she'd come from, or what she'd been through. And living _here_ . . . Skyrim was probably the most dangerous place for her – with "Nord land" and with Ulfric's camps scattered around.

"You do realize," she speaks quietly, timidly. "if anyone found out what I was, of what I can do, they will have me executed."

Diamond's eyes flash. "We're not going to tell anyone. I swear it."

Libby bites her lip and nods. Her hair is so long it curtains around her body, and the ends even flow over the lip of the chair cushion. If someone found out what she was, they would use the information against her, or have her killed. And there would be nothing that they could do to save her. No lie they could tell, no strings they could pull.

Libby is a Snow Elf, and heir to a power she can't control. What is she to do now? What will _they_ do now?

Diamond won't stop being her friend. In fact, this practically makes up for everything that has happened to them; because now everything all makes sense. It explains why she joined up with the Faceless after her father died, to escape death, she had to become it. She possibly stayed because Zusa knew what she really was and would risk Libby's exposure if she dared to disobey.

Perhaps in a way she was protecting Diamond. If she found out, and then people found out, they would probably hunt Diamond down and torture her for information on where Libby is. Diamond won't let that happen again. No one will use the information against Libby again.

But what is Libby to do now?

If she refuses to tell Nassari, will she still help the princess for the war effect? They're the only other ones who know of Libby's secret, and that's how it'll stay.

"Well," Malick speaks. "I think tonight was one that deserves a good drink, and a nice sleep in bed." He says with a clap of his hands.

Everyone chuckles and agrees, all rising from their seats. Farkas approaches Libby, still hugging her knees to her chest as he kisses her forehead and then her cheek. Libby offers a tired smile and Aela and Vilkas nod to her they pass to leave the room.

Malick makes it to the threshold of the double glass doors and Diamond looks up, realizing he's waiting for her. "I'll be a minute." She says. He nods and after a careful stare to Libby, who doesn't move from her seat, he walks through and disappears behind the curtains.

Diamond looks to Libby, and she only stares at the fireplace. Diamond stares too and watches the flames dance across the logs, and flicker upwards.

"I owe you an apology." Diamond speaks. Libby turns her heads towards her, her hair falling over her shoulder. "I'm sorry I stole the books from the library. I'm sorry I put everyone in danger. But most of all, I'm sorry I forced you to into your form."

Libby gives a ghost of a smile. "You didn't technically force me. The world did. But I suppose it doesn't matter now. And I understand why you did it. I'm sorry for you that he couldn't give you the closure you needed."

"How did you even know about it? All of it?"

Libby shrugs. "A gut instinct."

Even if her secret is out, how could she possibly tell her friend that the Queen of the Snow Elves came to her in phantom form and told her that she needed to hurry? Normally, she would assume Diamond would call her crazy, but here she is in her Elven form, Diamond wearing the clothes tainted with the blood of the creature. And, she's done keeping secrets.

"The Queen of the Snow Elves came to me. Or well, the first queen I should say." Diamond's eyes widen. "She told me how I had to hurry and stop you or else I would lose you forever. I didn't think, I just ran. Like it was only instinct."

"I'm flattered." Diamond grins. "I still feel so bad."

"I know I probably should've told you, but, I was just so afraid. After everything, I just wanted to forget about it. All of it. But also, I was forgetting my mother. I didn't want to – it was like I was making my own self-destruction."

Diamond's heart sinks. She can't imagine what Libby must've saw eleven years ago. The blood, the fire, the screams, the massacre. To live in that fear everyday of being discovered . . . it's no wonder why she's so hard when it comes to trusting people.

But this also raises the question if there are other Snow Elves hidden like Libby was. Could they too have known such spells to cloak themselves and hide to this current day? Perhaps they're the source of the uprising for Erelia Glendeylin.

"I feel afraid, Diamond." Libby speaks and Diamond turns to her. "I'm scared but, I'm also tired of running."

Diamond tilts her head, eyebrows narrowing.

"I'm a coward, Diamond. I've been running for so long that I've forgotten what it means to stand and fight."

Diamond swallows thickly, and her heart begins to race. "Does, does that mean that –"

Libby looks to her, her emerald green eyes glittering, the ring of gold almost churning like a fire. She slowly nods her head.

Diamond's shoulders slump and she exhales. Her eyes started to water right then.

"This world is corrupt, Diamond. This world is evil, divided by mere beliefs. Someone has to change that." Libby insists, finally releasing her legs. She stands and Diamond looks up, thinking her Snow Elf form makes her taller. "I'm tired of running. I'm tired of being afraid."

Diamond sniffs. "Well, you know that I support you. But this is just –"

She doesn't plan on talking her out of it. It would be selfish of her, and wrong. And a part of, smaller than how it was before, is angry at her. She had just gotten Libby back, it seems like their life has just gotten better, and she will be leaving soon.

Diamond growls at herself as she feels the warmth of her tears on her cheeks. She wipes them with the heel of her hand. Libby crouches down in front of her, her warm, pale hands overlapping Diamond's. Looking towards her, Diamond sniffs. Seeing the gentleness and compassion in her eyes, combined with the grief and fear almost makes her break down.

"I could go with you." Diamond mumbles.

"I cannot ask you undertake such a task." Libby responds, her words suddenly sounding more, graceful. Laced with culture and etiquette. "Besides," she smiles. "You've already got your hands full with your warriors."

It manages to make Diamond chuckle, or rather a combination of a sob and a laugh. Libby rises to stand, pulling the new Harbinger with her. The two girls stand and Libby pulls her in her arms. Diamond wraps her arms around her, hugging her tight. She feels libby's hair beneath her arms – as smooth and as soft as the silk nightgown she wears.

This is wrong. Libby should not be leaving her so soon after everything that has transpired. Diamond is still nervous about the fact that she has to bear the responsibility of Harbinger, even though many have faith in her. And after fighting the creature from Oblivion, she needs to give her time.

"When do you think you'll be leaving?" Diamond asks as she rests her head against Libby's chest.

"Perhaps when we return to Whiterun. I want to see everyone's reactions to the news." She smiles, pulling away and smiling down at Diamond.

"I don't think it'll be well."

"Hey, if the members of the Circle trust you, then everyone else will too. Besides," Libby suddenly grins like a fiend. "I can't wait to see Njada shit herself upon hearing it."

This makes the two girls giggle, for real this time. Both sharing a laugh like they did all the time when they used to climb atop Mistveil Keep with bottles of fresh wine Libby smuggled from the Blue Palace. Gods, they have so much together. and to think that Libby will be a soldier, a rebel in support of Erelia . . .

Of course Diamond's mind jumps to the conclusion that she will be killed, whether in battle or on the butchering block. But Libby is clever and smart. It would take someone beyond that to catch her. But because both Zusa and Mercer Frey are dead – by her hand – she can do it. She can help them. And she'll have Nassari, and Erelia Glendeylin. They can do it.

"You know where to find us if you ever need any help." Diamond says.

"If you publically take a political stand with me – with Erelia – I cannot guarantee everyone will like it." Libby warns.

"Well then they're just going to have to deal with it." Diamond grins. "I am the new Harbinger, and now I make the decisions."

"Well you suddenly became more enthused." Libby smiles.

The girls share another embrace, Libby rubbing Diamond's back, memorizing everything about her. The softness of her hair, the smell of her skin, the feeling of her strength in her muscles and the built up power within them.

Pulling apart, Libby lifts her hand and tentatively traces a mark on Diamond's forehead. "What are you doing?" She asks through a giggle.

"This is just, something I remember my mother doing to me in times when I was afraid. She said that this was a mark that the soldiers used before going into battle. A mark of protection." Libby leans in and kisses her brow. "Knowing you, you're going to need it."

Diamond smiles and giggles. The two girls leave the room and part ways towards the staircase, Libby's rooms on the left, Diamond's is on the right. The two girls wave to one another before ascending the steps and retreating into their separate rooms.

With her hair tickling the back of her legs, Libby hugs herself as she makes her way towards her master suite. Despite the winter chill that is settling on Skyrim, when she puts a hand to her chest, she strangely feels warmer compared to her how her hands were as she was closing the portal. Like a familiar but also foreign warmth has filled her now that everyone knew what she was now.

But she meant her words to Diamond. She's tired of running, tired of hiding. Nassari was right. It was time to take a stand. To put an end to both sides of the war and welcome a new era of change that only Erelia can bring. Her heart grows heavy at the thought of leaving so soon. So soon after it feels like she's finally gotten her life together, and now she's going to possibly lose it all once more. Another set of shackles to bind her to this forsaken land.

But she knew these risks from the very beginning, and it was the very reason why she wanted to stay out of the war in the first place.

And yet, when she thinks about it now, when she thinks about how Skyrim could be different – how there could still potentially be a court, a kingdom like Nassari, like Kodlak, and like the Snow Elf Queen had pictured, it fuels her fire more than anything.

And she's not afraid anymore.

Her bedroom doors come up on her left and she opens them to find Farkas sitting in one of the two armchairs set in front of a grand fireplace. He looks to her when the doors open and he rises from his seat. Libby halts her steps and hesitantly closes the door behind her.

The doors to her balcony are slightly open, her teal curtains billowing slightly. Her marble floors glow like an ember from the reflection of the fire, and the chandelier set in the high ceiling has been dulled down into a contemporary mood. Libby thought that Farkas was trying to seduce her, had it not been for the look of sadness on his features.

Libby walks over, fiddling with the tie of her silk robe. her bare feet pad quietly as she makes her way towards him. There doesn't seem to be any anger in his eyes, just something that seems to be bothering him.

One foot in front of the other, she walks towards him and stops close enough to kiss him. She blinks and he blinks back. Libby inhales and speaks softly. "I'm sorry for –"

She barely finishes her sentence when she felt him take her head in his hands and place his lips upon hers. Immediately she feels herself melt at the feel of his touch. She even whimpers with pleasure and feels her knees sink slightly. Farkas smiles through the kiss, pecking her lips again and again. When he's finally finished, Libby looks up to him and smiles, biting the corner of her bottom lip.

"I'm sorry." she whispers.

"For what?" he answers just as softly.

"For keeping this secret from you," she says, running the tip of her tongue over one of her elongated canines behind closed lips.

"It's not like you didn't have a good reason. Something like this, your life is on the very line. I understand."

"I don't."

"What?"

Libby chuckles and takes one step away. "I just, I don't get it. How can still look at me like that when you know what I am?"

His fingers graze her cheeks, warming her to the core. "Elf, assassin, thief, rebel – no matter what you are, I still love you. And I believe I always will."

Libby chuckles, tears immediately spilling from her eyes. She holds a hand to her mouth to muffle her sobs and she steps away from Farkas to wipe her eyes. "How? How is it that I found someone like you to be in my life? Why do the gods feel like I need to be so blessed?"

Farkas grins. "If you don't mind, I do have one question."

"Of course."

"Is _that_ the whole reason why you say that you can't leave Skyrim? Because you feel some kind of responsibility to Erelia?"

"No, I mean – not exactly –"

"Because you know that you don't have to." Farkas gently interjects. "I know she was your Queen and everything, but you shouldn't let a burden from your kind determine your fate."

"Farkas,"

"We can still leave," he says, stepping closer and placing his hands on her arms. The roughness of his skin sending goosebumps across her. "We can still leave this place once we get back to Whiterun. You can give yourself enough time to explain and to say goodbye –"

"Farkas," Libby repeats. She steps closer, setting her hands against her chest. She sets her hands on his chest, feeling the heartbeat against her palm. The fact that he would still give her the future she wanted is enough to make her tear up again. "I appreciate that, really do. But, I still can't leave."

Farkas' heart hurts. "Why not?"

What will happen to them after the war? Where will they go? She won't let him go with her into the war, not with his title, but at the same time he still can't stay in the hall, not with Diamond as Harbinger. He might've saved her in the otherworld, but it was only for Libby's sake. A small part of him has forgiven Diamond, but still, he just can't trust her.

What if Libby finds someone new while fighting in the war? She is young, and so damn clever and amusing and wonderful, that wherever she goes, there will be some man who will fall in love with her and who would make her his wife.

And _that_ is the worst truth of all. This pain and rage and terror at the thought of someone else with her, it's unbearable.

Libby drums her fingers on his chest and looks down and merely steps closer, pressing the side of her head against his solid chest.

"Why not?" Farkas repeats. Petting the back of her head and Libby looks up to him.

Libby blink, drawing a shaking breath and sighs. "There's something else."

"What is it?"

He then watches as Libby's eyes water immediately. She hitches a breath and quickly turns around, bringing a hand to her mouth to muffle her sob. "Libby –"

She holds a hand out to him, a silent order to stay where he is. He watches her wander over to a bookshelf and pull a thick, mahogany colored tome off. She wanders back over to him, holding the book like it holds a priceless item.

And then Libby does the most reckless thing she's ever done in her life. She hands the book to Farkas and whispers the words to him.

The words that will make him understand, understand why it is so important to her, and what it means when she leaves for the war. And he will hate her forever for it, once he understands.

Farkas gives her a confused look, and she only smiles sadly. She then steps past him and wanders over to her balcony doors. He watches as she slips through the thin crevice outside.

He didn't understand it. The words were a date. Not even a year attached to it, but it's not that he needed it. He knew what it was. It's Libby's birthday. The day she snapped in Cidhna Mines. The day her parents had died.

It was some kind of riddle, perhaps, something that she couldn't put into words.

With a strange feeling tingling in the back of his brain, he opens the book and immediately knows what it is. It's peculiar she would keep this on her shelf, but Libby has always been so intimidatingly smart. Perhaps it's actually a page number. This book is thick enough to hold such a number.

He searches for it, trailing his finger along page after the page until it brings him towards the middle of the book. There it is. But, wait –

Farkas has to brace his hand against the desk. No, it couldn't be.

By the _gods_ . . .

A small sound gains his attention and he whirls to find Libby, her nose tipped red, her eyes red-rimmed and cheeks raw. She hides behind the balcony door, the teal curtains billowing behind her.

It's as if all feeling leaves his body, but something else fills him. He slowly trudges over to Libby, captured by her glittering emerald eyes, her silver hair like moonlight.

When he reaches her, he wraps his arms around her middle and sinks to his knees.

And the warrior cries.


	61. Chapter 60

They headed back towards Whiterun in the morning. Meeting at the front of the house, after a well-deserved sleep and giving their bodies time to heal, much of them felt better. Libby gave each warrior a spare set of clothes, and when Libby arrived, Diamond and the warriors had the honor to watch her so easily shift back into her mortal form.

The black of Libby's hair started at her roots and slowly consumed the stunning silver until it was a dark as a raven's feathers once more. But even so, her hair still remained as long as it had grown in the portal. Her ears retraced into her hair and her features softened.

It's strange – after seeing her last night, and confirming that it was not some drug-induced dream, seeing her in her mortal form feels both familiar and odd.

Not to mention that her forehead still tingled ever so slightly ever since Libby traced that mark of protection. It was like a tickling sensation, but nothing that she could keep her attention on very long.

Immediately upon arrival, though, Diamond saw something was off about Farkas. He seemed, on edge. He stood closer to Libby, kept more of an eye on her – something was just so serious in his eyes that Diamond almost asked what was wrong, but Libby approached her and opened her arms. Diamond could not resist walking into them. They exchange a smile and Libby calls to mount.

Borrowing horses from Libby's stables, they rode through the day and arrived back by noon. Libby spent the majority of the ride fiddling with her hair, brushing it, braiding it, twirling into a roll atop her head. Diamond giggled uncontrollably and Libby poked her tongue out at her, complaining on how this is the reason why she always wanted to keep it short.

Gods, Diamond still remembers when Libby would always pull her hair back ponytail and then braid it. It seemed so long ago. But then again, many things seemed to long ago.

Walking into Jorrvaskr, they are immediately greeted by the warriors, and after the members of the Circle state that Diamond is proclaimed the new Harbinger, cheers erupted out of them, and even Njada spared a smile and a fist pump in the air.

After settling in, Libby and Diamond walked down in the living quarters and towards Kodlak's chambers. Diamond runs the tips of her fingers across the glass of the display cases holding Kodalk's prized weapons. Libby sorts through the contents of his desk, smiling as she finds different papers still with his writing on it. The silence and emptiness of the chamber threatened to swallow them both.

"When do you think Nassari will be here?" Diamond asks.

"Probably by tomorrow afternoon."

Libby strayed away from the group before entering Jorrvasskr, traveling towards Dragonsreach where Nassari has returned. Her absence from the castle would've raised suspicion and while the Stormcloaks aren't going to dare try another assassination attempt, Libby stated that Nassari still isn't ready to make her stand present to all of Skyrim. She still had duties and courts and council meetings to get to; still much information needed to be collected.

"I hope he isn't mad at me." Diamond says as she saunters over to the table and sits down in his chair.

"I doubt it. He knew you meant well." Libby smiles gently, turning to lean against Kodlak's desk. "I just wish that the elders would just be straightforward sometimes instead of leaving us with some metaphysical babble. No offense."

"None taken." Diamond says. She lifts her eyes to scan all around the room. "It's strange. I don't think I'll ever get used to the idea that this is all mine now. It'll never really be mine."

Libby can only smile and gaze around at the room too. Something about Kodlak still lurks here; in the air, in the sheets in the atmosphere. Libby likes to think that it means he is watching over them from Sovngarde.

"So, when will you be leaving?" Diamond asks.

"Eager to get rid of me, I see." Libby grins.

"Be gone!" Diamond barks, smiling like a fiend, waving a hand as if to push her out. "But I'm just wondering."

"I don't know. There's still some things that I have to do before . . . before I leave." She forces herself to say.

"You know, you don't have to leave so soon."

"If I don't, I'll keep putting it off forever, just knowing who I am."

A defeated sigh, "Very well. At least we can spend the night celebrating and such."

"Celebrating what?"

"The victory of us, and to set you off on a good note. I'd write you a symbol of protection too, but I just don't know any." Diamond grins sheepishly.

Libby giggles and smiles at her friend. Her best friend. Her soul friend. Her soul grows heavy at the thought of having to leave Diamond so soon after things between them had just gotten repaired. But she needs to do this.

She'll have to give up her life for a new and better future.

Diamond is the first to walk out of the chambers, and Libby looks down at Kodlak's desk. She runs her hand over the papers, shifting them aside to reveal another. She smiles sadly.

This is what's right. Even if a selfish part of her heart argued she was only doing it out of duty instead of will. But there's a small will in her heart as well, and it is time she stops running, as she's repeated to herself so many times before.

A soft pat form ahead pulls her attention, and she finds Farkas standing there with a tall stack of books in his hands. They smile to one another, and Farkas approaches. He sets the books on the desk, and then Libby reaches up, caressing his face, her hand scratching from the hairs of his unshaved face.

He leans into her hand and Libby walks into his arms. They stay like this, long after the sound of music starts.

While they are warriors of fine stature, Libitania did not expect the Companions to be such lovers of parties. They had a small handful of bards come in from the Cloud District, barrels of ale from Honningbrew Meadery and plates and plates of food cooked by the chef in Dragonsreach. Nassari wouldn't be able to come tonight, but will arrive first thing in the afternoon once the morning councils are over.

It wasn't a party like the balls at Dragonsreach, or like any other upper class party that Libitania is used to; but that's precisely why she likes it so much. It felt more like a party held among family members during the holidays. Pleasant chatter, roaring laughter echoing through the hall, and some members even cutting loose and dancing in the little area behind the table.

Malick had decided to stay, regarding that Diamond would need him now more than ever. Neither of them argued, in fact Diamond only smiled, even if her cheeks were deepening with color. He now sits with Diamond at the dinner table, sitting next to Ria and Athis. From under the table, Libby can see his hand on Diamond's knee. And the smile on Diamond's lips is wide and genuine. Perhaps even laced with a little tipsy fun.

Leaning against the wooden pillar, her third mug of ale in her hand, Libby watches the atmosphere of the hall shift and churn with amusement and fun. Even with the "strong" mead and ale that Torvar had ordered, she's not even drunk yet, while everyone else, even Vilkas, is teetering back and forth. Uncontrollable laughter falls form their lips and they each lean against one another for support. Libby even did shots with Njada, and the warrior now sits in a bench near the door, holding her stomach. Libby grins.

Torvar is on the floor, dancing like a fool but laughing with unchained joy with Athis. Ria and Aela are having decent chatter with little giggles here and there, and Libby can only smile at the atmosphere of the hall. She will be leaving this soon, and even if the party is for her, it doesn't feel like it is. And she doesn't really want it to be.

She thinks back to how much fun she had at the Warrior's Festival. The music pounding, the crowd around here emanating a vibe that was so contagious. What is keeping her from enjoying herself now? Well for one, she can't exactly take on a war with a hangover.

"Shouldn't you be watching your intake?" Farkas whispers in her ear, as if listening to her thoughts. Libby looks to him and shrugs her shoulders.

"As if any of you could outdrink a Snow Elf, you pathetic lightweights." He retorts with a soft elbow in her side. Libby giggles and in turn she tilts into Farkas, who wraps his arms around her and kisses the nape of her neck.

Lacing her fingers with his around her waist, the two of them watch the revelry devour the rest of the warriors. Possibly minutes or seconds later, she feels his teeth nibble on her earlobe. Libby can't stop the giggle that erupts out of her lips.

"What are you doing?" She asks with a smile.

"The night is still young." He says to her, grinning with such hunger that Libby has to bite her lip to keep herself from growling.

She looks to the crowd, so caught up in the drinks and music, they wouldn't even notice their absence. Or their noise.

Libby looks to Farkas and grins like a fiend. He sets aside their drinks and lets Libby pulls him downstairs towards the living quarters, no one calling to them or stopping them. Giggling like a little girl, Libby squeals as Farkas chases her towards his bed chambers.

He practically slams the door shut and presses her against it as he passionately kisses her. His hands reach down and cup her bum and lifts her effortlessly so her legs wrap around his waist. Libby loses herself in his kiss, running her hands along his beard and into his hair. Farkas walks over to the bed and gently lays her down, her long hair fanning out around her head.

"You look like a goddess." He whispers, her skin tingling.

"So, my dear Companion," she purrs, leaning up and sliding her hand around his neck. "to whom do you prefer to see tonight?"

"Whatever makes you feel as beautiful, and as powerful and as amazing as you are." He says as he leans into her, making Libby slowly set her back against the sheets.

Farkas could've sworn he heard a delicate chiming of bells, and watches in amazement as Libby's hair shifts back into that gleaming silver, her skin growing paler in color, but smooth like marble. Her ears poke out from beneath her hair and her eyes seem to glow more in this form.

Farkas smiles and says, "Just be sure to watch it with these." He says as he pokes at her lip, right where her elongated canines are.

Libby grins further. "Don't worry, I don't bite. Well, not hard. I'm not a vampire after all."

Farkas can only growl with seduction as kisses her soft lips and unbuttons her tunic.

* * *

The night has grown silent as Erelia Glendeylin stands atop the watch tower just outside of the hall of the Companions. Her silver hair is braided down her back, but still come confounded strings are billowing in the wind. The cape behind her billows in a wave of black, the hood rippling around her head.

She simply stares out at the vast prairie that surrounds the great city of Whiterun. She had managed to get so little rest before she decided to come out here. She looks down at her hand, covering the hilt of her sword strapped to her waist, the bow pressed against her back.

"You know you didn't have to come." She speaks, the mask altering her tone into that of a seductive goddess.

"I would be a fool to let you go alone." The warrior speaks.

"You love your country too much to simply abandon it. Your brother, you kin."

"They haven't been my since that fateful day, and I saw what they really are."

Erelia angles her head to peek over her shoulder. "Are you doing this for me, or for her?"

"I'm doing it for both of you." He says as he steps from the shadows. The shadows he's been concealed in since she came out here, armed and ready for any trouble. She's causing enough trouble coming out here like this in her skin, her hair like a beacon in the dark night.

"It won't be easy." She says finally turning to him.

"Life never is. But that's part of the journey."

Erelia spares him a smile. "You Companions always were stubborn as bulls."

"You're just figuring this out now? I just don't get why you have to leave now. Why not wait until the morning? The princess . . ."

"I know it is strange. But it is something that, almost can't wait. I don't expect you to understand, but I just have to do this."

"Then I'll follow." He smiles.

"You can still go back."

"I said that I love you, no matter what you are or who you are. If you go, then so will I." he takes her hand and kisses the back of it. He then kisses her forehead.

"Very well." Erelia contents. "But before we go, there is one last stop we need to make."

"Lead the way."

Erelia nods, pulling the mask up over her chin, her hand almost shaking. _Just one more time_, she thinks, _you can wear this mask one more time and then you can bury her forever._

Erelia takes a step closer to the edge of the lip of the balcony, looking down at the drop that awaits them. She looks back to the warrior, her stone, her solid guard and protector.

With a deep breath, the two of them hop down the wall and sprint away from the walls, from the city of Whiterun.


	62. Chapter 61

In the morning, Diamond groans as she awakens in Kodlak's bed, grateful there are no windows to increase the throbbing in her head.

She pushes herself up to sit and carefully rubs her eyes, and runs her fingers through her hair, pulling it out of her face. As her hands, they hit something – something solid next to her. She grows still like a deer who has spotted a hunter. Slowly turning her head, she claps her mouth to stop her scream when she finds Malick lying in the bed next to her . . . shirtless. The panes of his glorious and brutal tattoo curl and twist around his arm and shoulder.

Feeling herself, she's relieved to find herself in a night gown. Diamond tries to calm herself, reaching out a shaking hand towards the blanket covering Malick only from the hips down. Carefully, she takes a deep breath and tentatively lifts the sheet.

Oh thank the gods! He's wearing pants! But she's still horrified at the thought that Malick had to change her _into_ the nightgown.

But how did they get here? She wasn't _that_ drunk, was she? Gods, she hasn't felt like this since she began her drinking problem three years ago, sprawled along the roofs and just doing nothing.

She sits back up, leaning her back against the cool headboard. Her head doesn't hurt that bad, and she can recall details of night: Athis and Torvar dancing, Njada holding her stomach after she lost a shot contest with Libby, and she was sitting at the table with Vilkas and Malick. She doesn't remember Malick drinking much – which would explain _this_ situation. He probably carried her to bed after the party came to a close. And Libby . . . Libby was drinking more than anyone, yet she was still standing, still had common sense. Gods, her tolerance credit goes to her Snow Elf genetics.

Feeling a little calmer now, Diamond fists her hands, stretches her arms and carefully slips out of the bed and out into the hall. She takes careful observation of the hall, making sure nothing was broken and damaged. Her first official day as Harbinger and she throws a party. Some leader.

Walking up to the dining room, Diamond finds the place decently clean, probably cleaner than it was before. There's no food on the table as usual, which is probably best since most of the members won't be up for a couple more hours.

Diamond didn't see or Farkas leave the party, but she can only assume where they went. A part of her wanted to check for herself, but she'd rather not. Helping herself to a small tea kettle left on the table, she pours a cup and adds a mound of honey to it.

This is almost, nice. Peaceful without the chatter of the other members, and having the dining room herself allows for the silence and calming crackling of the fire to settle her nerves.

She still can't believe Malick actually slept with her, well, quite literally and not the way Farkas sleeps with Libby. It scared her beyond belief, frightened even since she still has no idea what it's like to cross that final threshold of intimacy. She was always told that it has to be shared together when couples are married. But that tradition has long since been demolished through the courtesans and the invention of ale.

She can't deny, though, that through her fear and shock, a part of her was calm. The idea and actuality of waking up with Malick next to her was, exciting, and makes her giddy and giggly like a little schoolgirl.

This is what it must be like to Libby and Farkas, to wake up next to one another, or just to wake up to the person you love all the time – it sounds so nice. In her heart Diamond knew that she wanted that future with Malick, she even knew that she wanted to get intimate with him.

The only problem . . . she's scared out of her wits about it. She doesn't know how to be intimate, or sexy or seductive. The last time she tried to flirt was on a mission with Libby years ago, and she was trying to get some information out of a stable boy. But he only laughed at her, told her to get lost and kicked some dung her way. Libby later took care of him by yanking his underwear up over his head, as well as a satisfying vandalizing of his parents' stables.

How could it be that she was granted such a beautiful, powerful creature like Malick? Did the gods really feel like she deserved him? have they really answered her prayers? Well, yes, they answered that when he came to her alive again. And somehow, he loves her too.

At least, she thinks he does. He hasn't really said it out loud, only remarking with rude comments and vulgar gestures, but it only drives her further into his arms. And even when he does show her affection, the gentleness almost makes her heart shatter with ache.

Looking around the spacious hall, Diamond doesn't know what to do with herself. Libby might not be up for another hour or so. It takes a lot to make Libby sleep in, and Farkas is just the man to do that. She doesn't really want to go back to bed, but she is hungry. She could go shopping, and maybe sit out on the back porch and just listen to the birds.

Gods, when did she become so . . . normal?

Smiling to herself, Diamond finishes her tea and slips her way back down to the living quarters and into Kodlak's – her rooms. She quietly changes into a long-sleeved white tunic with gold embroidery along the cuffs and neckline, grey pants and black leather boots.

She grabs a small leather satchel, her coin purse and heads out the door.

Being in the market early in the morning is nice. There's still a small chill, only now more noticeable with winter rolling in, and there are no lines to get to the stalls. Diamond visits the fresh market with Carlotta and her daughter, and even buys herself a new dress, it's pattern similar to Libby's opal gown. Of which she still plans steal.

When she returns to the hall, she almost gasps in surprise to find Malick sitting at the table, eating some buttered bread and muffins, a warm cup of tea next to him. He lifts his eyes when Diamond walks in, unhesitant in giving her a smile. She smiles back, quickly putting her bags on the small table by the doors and scurrying down towards the table.

Malick follows her, reaching out a hand as she gets closer. Diamond approaches and even giggles as his arm slips around her waist.

"Morning." He says, Diamond briefly taken aback by how much deeper his voice is in the morning. It's almost, seductive.

"Morning." She replies. "You're up earlier than I thought you'd be."

"Well, a part of it is habit, and the other is that unlike you, I didn't drink myself ink a stupor last night."

Diamond giggles. "You should've seen me when I just doing nothing for three years."

"Why?" he asks.

"Well because I had lost everything." Diamond slowly sits down in the chair next to him. "I thought you were dead, Libby had betrayed me, or I thought she did at the time, and my Sanctuary and my . . . members were all dead. And they were all I had before."

She slowly lowers her shoulders, her mood draining a little at the thoughts. Malick then places hand on her thigh and Diamond doesn't have time to react when he kisses her cheek and strokes the back of her head.

"I'm sorry." he whispers.

She couldn't help it. She shook him off and started to stutter, babble as she feels her cheeks growing red and warm. "So, um, how did you sleep? I didn't see you drink much at the party, and by the way, I do and don't appreciate you changing me into that nightgown and –"

She stops when she hears Malick laugh heavily. "You think I enjoyed changing you? You should've heard yourself as I was trying to take your armor off!"

"What?!"

"You were moaning and smiling and giggling, with a few mentions of my name here and there –"

"Shut up, I was not!"

"Oh? Would you like me to recreate it?" Before she can answer, Malick starts to make these embarrassing and awful noises that Diamond leaps from her chair and claps her hands over his mouth. Even so, she feels him smiling and still making the sounds that she does not remember in the slightest.

"Malick, please, please stop."

"Oh, still begging to me huh? Like you were begging to me last night to –"

"Malick shut up or I will cut out your tongue!" Diamond says. She covers her face and plants her forehead against the tabletop, Malick laughing like she has never heard him laugh before.

He continues to laugh like this for minutes, all the while she can't bear to look at him, her face as red as a freshly polished ruby gem. While she is embarrassed and more than ready to smother him, she can't help but smile and laugh along at how genuinely happy he is right now.

Even back in the keep of the Faceless, she's never heard him laugh before, rarely saw him smiling, and almost never enjoying himself, even with Veera's goofy personality. Diamond almost feels honored she can make him laugh like this, let alone witness him being so happy.

When he finally calms down enough that he can form a single word, he wipes his eyes and takes deep breaths. A couple more chuckles managed to choke their way out of him, and Diamond peeks out to find him taking a sip of tea. She finally lifts her head and runs her fingers through her hair.

"You know, this actually reminds me," Malick says through a small cough. "We haven't really had a chance to talk to one another."

"About?"

"Us. Our lives, and what happened between the times that, you left." He carefully words.

"They're not exactly happy stories, and it'll only dampen our moods."

"Maybe not." Malick says as he leans close and sets his hand on her thigh. Diamond tenses a little. "It was all in the past, and we're starting new beginnings. It just still feels like I don't know much about you. And I'd like to know more, if you'll allow it."

Diamond looks to him, those gorgeous sapphire eyes threatening to get her lost in them. She sighs and smiles. "Okay, but you first."

"I figured."

The two of them start talking, Malick starting with what had happened, in detail, about things that had transpired after he and Veera helped Diamond escape from the Faceless. He tells her all about the torture he endured, about how and where they had buried Veera, even offering to take Diamond there if she wishes to give her final words. And she does. He tells her about his missions and how he was practically being watched every minute of the day. It took so long to get back on Zusa's good graces, but the bitch was stupid enough to trust him again, thinking she had broken his will into submission.

The descriptions of the torture, to think of Malick lying on a metal table and screaming until his voice is raw. She almost loses her breakfast. When she asks to lift his sleeves and his shirt, he obeys, and she can see the brutal scars.

As best as she can, Diamond tries to explain her life without going back to her roots; not quite ready to bring Malick back to her childhood just yet. Not that there's much to remember, or to give credit to. But still, she told him of how she and Libby met, and what had transpired to them being together. She told him of the funniest, scariest and most destructive missions they went on together; she spoke of Helgen and the dragon attack; she spoke of the Brotherhood's scheme to assassinate the Emperor, and how she had gutted Commander Marro for his betrayal. Then brought him to when she was depressed and doing nothing but sunbathing and drinking herself into a fog to try and fill that void, fill that abyss that would haunt her – threaten to swallow her at every minute of every day.

She then concludes with how she met Kodlak and the Companions, and then the rest is history.

By the time Diamond finishes is when the chatter reaches her ears. She looks up and finds some of the other Companion members have entered the hall: hair all tangled matts, dark circles under their eyes, and walking with a sluggish gait that indicated there was still plenty of ale in their system from last night.

Looking around, she still doesn't see Libby nor Farkas. That's odd because by now it has to be close to eleven o'clock. Libby normally doesn't like to sleep in; she always considered it like wasting away a day.

Diamond is about to get up and look for her, when the doors to the hall start knocking. Sparing a quick glance to Malick, who only shrugs his shoulders, Diamond saunters over to the doors.

Opening them, her eyes widen at the sight of Princess Nassari. Diamond chirps with excitement and opens the door wider. "Princess Nassari!" she chimes. "Welcome."

The princess smiles as she steps inside. She opens her arms and Diamond walks into them, taking in the smell of vanilla of the princess. She's abandoned her attire of glorious gowns and chose for something more, like a warrior. Wearing a fitted beige tunic, laced with light chain mail, ebony vambraces hide under her long sleeves, she wears white fitted pants with brown boots reaching her knee. Her hair is still in its braids, pulled into a ponytail, the braids reaching down her back with gold cuffs evenly spaced.

All warriors straighten as the princess enters, some trying to hide their fatigue and or evidence of the celebration last night. Even with her gowns gone, she still holds a form of grace and poise, her chin still held high.

"I'm assuming you're here for Libby?" Diamond giggles.

Nassari nods. "Yes. She was supposed to come to Dragonsreach to bring me out hunting. But it's been three hours, and I grew weary of waiting."

Diamond giggles. How she would love to hear the princess give Libby an earful. The two of them walk down the steps towards the table.

"Can I get you something to drink, or eat?"

"No, no. Thank you. But also, congratulations on your new title. Libitania sent me a message after you both left the Tomb of Ysgramor."

"Thank you." Diamond says bashfully. "But, if you want to see Libby, she should be downstairs. With Farkas."

"I see." Nassari says, grinning like a fiend but also rolling her eyes. "Then I shall collect her myself."

Nassari rises from the chair, and while Aela attempts to stop her, Diamond signals her to stop. There's no point in stopping the princess. Her stubbornness is one to mark for the ages.

The princess easily makes her way towards the living quarters, and through the doors she went. Diamond looks to Malick who is also smiling impishly.

"That's quite bold, and possibly rude of you." Malick says.

"You saw her reaction. She can handle it."

No more than a minute later, Princess Nassari returns, but Diamond's heart sinks when she finds her eyes gleaming with tears.

"Princess?" Diamond immediately springs up from her seat and trots over. "Is everything okay?"

Nassari doesn't even look to her when she says. "She left."

"What?"

"Libby. She just gathered her things and disappeared?"

"What? What are you talking about?" Diamond says, the atmosphere in the hall immediately changing. Heads soon turn to them and Vilkas hurries past the princess and down the living quarters. It is then Diamond notices the note in Nassari's hand.

"I found this on Kodlak's desk, with a bunch of other books stacked atop." Nassari says as she angles the note to Diamond. "Libby said that she needs to leave, and to help restore Skyrim."

"I guess she didn't tell you." Diamond mumbles.

"Tell me what?" Nassari asks, stepping closer.

Diamond sets her hand on Nassari's shoulder and arm. As calmly as she can, Diamond tells Nassari of Libby's heritage. The princess's eyes widen, her brows high. "H-How did you find out?"

"It was my fault. I opened a portal into Oblivion because, I wanted to see Kodlak. When Libby saved me, the magic, or something like it of that world, revealed her true heritage. And it was, instantly. Her ears grew, her teeth sharpened, and her hair became long and silver . . ."

"By the gods." Nassari breathes, setting a hand on her chest.

"She told me about how she wanted to join the army in support of Erelia Glendeylin. She claimed that she didn't know when she was leaving but –"

The doors suddenly open and Vilkas comes hurrying up the steps. "Farkas isn't here either. I checked all downstairs and he's gone."

"Maybe he went with Libby to see her off." Aela says.

"But if so, why him and not me?" says Diamond. "I'm the one she told everything first. And I thought we were both in good places again."

"Why would she just leave?" Nassari says, a feline growl humming in the back of her throat.

"Maybe that's her way of being brave." says Malick.

"It's not brave! It's selfish and stupid! I could be helping her!" the princess barks.

"Something just isn't right." Diamond says as she rereads the note over and over and over again. Trying to find the hidden meaning in Libby's writing. There has to be a message here somewhere, something that tells Diamond where or maybe why she left. But the lines are as plain and vague as they can be.

Then she turns the letter over and down in the bottom write corner, Libby had written a set of numbers. They looked familiar, but there wasn't a year attached to it. She looks to Nassari. "You said there were books on Kodlak's desk?"

Nassari nods. "Two thick stacks. I just assumed you moved them in."

"Let me see."

Diamond, Nassari, Vilkas, Malick and Aela head down the steps towards the quarters. Even from the other end of the hall, Diamond can see the stacks of books, and she can swear on her life that they weren't there before. She probably didn't notice them just from not being a morning person.

Diamond hurries her steps straight down the hall and to the desk. She rummages through the papers set on the desk, but there is nothing about the numbers written on the letter. Then Diamond looks to the stack of books, and she swallows thickly.

Geneaologies and countless royal chronicles. When did Libby bring these books here? Diamond hadn't seen them the other night. Was it somehow another clue?

Then Diamond realizes, it's a date. It's Libby's birthday. Something else had to have happened, perhaps another event happened on her birthday.

Standing before the desk, Diamond pulls out the royal chronicles—all from the past eighteen years—and starts back, one by one. Nothing.

Then comes the chronicle from eras ago; the era of the Snow Elves. It was thicker than all the rest—as it should be, given the events that had happened that year. But when Diamond sees what was written about the date Libby had written, everything freezes.

_This morning, Queen Aurora Glendeylin was found assassinated. The Queen was murdered in her bed at the royal palace, and her husband and daughter were believed to have escaped. There is no word yet about their fate_.

Diamond's hands start to shake, and she turns to Malick. "Malick." She chirps, her voice suddenly gone. He hurries to her side and examines the page. His skin grows pale.

Malick grabs for the first genealogy book, the one on the bloodlines of the royal houses of Skyrim.

Flipping through the pages, scanning the genealogies, Diamond remembers the name Aurora. Hitting her like a ton of bricks.

Aurora.

_You once asked if I could remember my mother's name, it was Aurora_.

No, it had to just be coincidence.

Was Libby trying to tell them she knew the truth about what had happened that night—that she might know where the lost princess Erelia was hiding? That she had been there when this all happened?

"Diamond." Malick says, his voice veiled in a breath of disbelief. A sinking feeling makes Diamond's stomach churn. He shows her the page he had found under the name Aurora. Nassari and Vilkas huddle around him.

Aurora had been a princess of the court of the early Snow Elf King. Hands shaking, Diamond watches Nassari yank out a book containing Skyrim's royal family tree for all races.

_According to this eyewitness account, the great Falmer leader known only as the Snow Prince died in glorious battle, and was buried with honor by his Nord slayers. The remaining Snow Elves were scattered or slain, and were never heard from again. Or so many thought._

_But where the story of the ancient snow elves ends, that of the current-day Falmer begins. For when the snow elf host was shattered on that fateful day, it did not simply disperse – it descended. Into the earth, deep underground. For the Falmer sought sanctuary in the most unlikely of places – Blackreach, far beneath the surface of Skyrim, in the legendary realm of the Dwemer themselves_.

On the last page, Erelia Glendeylin's name is written at the bottom, and above it, her mother, Aurora's. Two spots above Aurora's name was written Auri-El. Erelia's great-grandfather. And Diamond counts down the family tree, one after one, until—

Diamond has to brace a hand against the desk. She turns back to the chronicle still held in Malick's hand, and turned to the next day.

_Erelia Glendeylin, heir to the throne of The Snow Elves, died today, or sometime in the night. Before help could reach Snow Veil Sanctum, the assassin who had missed her and her father the night before, returned. Her body has still not been found, though some believe it was thrown into the river behind near the burial mound_.

She'd once said that Zusa had . . . had found her. Found her half-dead and frozen. On a riverbank.

They are all just jumping to conclusions. Maybe Libby merely wanted them to know that she still cared about the Snow Elves, or—

Nassari gasps, and all heads turn to find her with tears running down her cheeks, and her chest hitching with choked sobs.

"Nassari?" Diamond whimpers.

In Nassari's hand is another chronicle, thick and colored in forest green. Nassari takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "Today, history has been made." She reads. "Today, two races were unified through holy matrimony: a Snow Elf, and an Imperial."

Diamond's blood runs cold.

"It is through the grace of the Divines, and the blessing of the king, that he transferred the care of his youngest daughter, Aurora Glendeylin into the love of Gallus Desidenius, an Imperial trader and business man. Together they unified two unlikely races, and soon brought into this world, two beautiful children. The Snow Prince, a warrior of epic stature, and Erelia Desidenius Glendeylin, a princess of ethereal beauty, and heart of courage. Through the years, the Snow Prince saw his sister's potential to lead the kingdom of the Snow Elves, and gave up his title as the heir. Instead, he vouched himself as her protector and guardian. The people's love for Erelia as obvious, and there was no doubt she was the one to lead the Snow Elves into a glorious future. They say even the great Divine himself Auri-El came down from the heavens and granted her the skill to wield his legendary weapon, Auri-El's bow."

Gallus Desidenius. Aurora Glendeylin.

"This . . . this can't be." Diamond's lips are trembling, her voice a hush whisper.

Malick sets down his book and takes a deep breath. Diamond squints her eyes at the pages of his royal chronicle. There is a poem scribbled at the top of the Glendeylin family tree, as though some student had dashed it down it as a reminder while studying. Her lips read aloud.

_A beacon in the darkness, the light of hope_

_Fighting forever, for honor and truth_

_Through struggle we have persevered_

_Eternal and just_

_Just look for her eyes, the green with gold._

_Through Erelia Glendeylin, our freedom restored_

Green eyes with gold. A strangled cry comes out of Diamond. How many times has she looked into those eyes? How many times has she seen Libby avert her gaze, that one bit of proof she can't hide, from Skyrim?

Libitania Desidenius isn't in league with Erelia Glendeylin.

Libitania _is_ Erelia Desidenius Glendeylin, heir to the throne and rightful Queen of the Snow Elves.

Libitania is Erelia Glendeylin, the greatest living threat to the Stormcloaks and Imperials, the one person who can raise an army capable of standing against Ulfric and the Imperial Legion.

She and her father must've ran until she found the place where a Snow Elf princess could hide: The Thieves Guild. She'd learned the only skills that could keep her safe.

To escape death, she'd become death.

Now, she is the only person who knows of the secret weapon that can defeat both parties, and bring back forth the power of her people.

And now she if off on a journey towards her forgotten lands, into the arms of the homeland of her mother, and to the kingdom of her great-grandfather, the chief god of the Nine Divines, Auri-El.

Libby is the lost Queen of the Snow Elves.

Diamond sinks to her knees and is violently sick.


	63. Chapter 62

Erelia Glendeylin walked towards the nearest rebel camp. The sun is still coming up over the horizon, the sky a gorgeous pink mixed with purples and oranges.

Upon her arrival, the rebels all dropped to their knees, gasps traveled throughout the camp and eyes were as wide as saucer plates. She let them bow and praise and kiss her hands and toes, and then she walked over to Valil, and asked him to retrieve his needles and ink from his pack.

She bathed while he readied what he needed, and she scrubbed herself with coarse salt in the nearby lake until her skin gleamed. No one said anything as she walked back into the room, no one gave her more than a passing glance as she removed her robe, bare to the waist, and laid on her stomach on his worktable set with a freshly clean sheet. His needles and ink are already on the table, his sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and his hair tied back like she always saw when he worked.

"Deep breath," Valil says. She obeys, resting her hands under her cheek as she stares at Farkas shadowed in the doorway, watching carefully, protectively. "Have you had enough water and food?"

She nods. She'd devoured a full breakfast before getting into the bath.

"Let me know when you need to get up," Valil says. He gives her the honor of not second-guessing her decision or warning her of the oncoming pain. Instead, he brushes a steady hand down her scarred back, an artist assessing his canvas. He callused fingers along each scar, testing, and her skin prickled.

Then he began the process of drawing the marks, the guide he would follow in the hours ahead. Over breakfast, he'd already sketched a few designs for her approval. They were so perfect it was as if he'd reached into her soul to find them. It hadn't surprised her at all.

He let her bath in the lake when he'd finished with the outline, and soon she was again face down on the table, hands under her chin. "Don't move from now on. I'm starting."

She gave a grunt of acknowledgment and kept her gaze on Farkas, on his beautiful face as she felt the nerves of the oncoming needle. She heard his slight intake of breath, and then—

The first prick stung – holy gods, with the salt and iron, it hurt. She clamped her teeth together, mastered it, welcomed it. That was what the salt was for with this manner of tattoo, Valil had told her. To remind the bearer of the loss.

Good – good, was all she could think as the pain spiderwebbed through her back. Good.

And when Valil made the next mark, she opens her mouth and began her prayers.

They were prayers she should have said ten years ago: an even – keeled torrent of words in the Ancient Falmer Languge, telling the gods of her parents' death, her brother's death, her aunt's death—four lives wiped out in the span of two days.

With each sting of the needle, she beseeches the faceless immortals to take the souls of her loved ones into Sovngarde and keep them safe. She told them of their worth—told them of the good deeds and loving words and brave acts they'd performed. Never pausing for more than a breath, she chanted the prayers she owed them as daughter and friend and heir.

For the hours Valil works, his movements falling into the rhythm of her words, she chants and sings. He doesn't speak, his mallet and needles the drum to her chanting, weaving their work together. He doesn't disgrace her by offering water when her voice turns hoarse, her throat so ravaged she has to whisper.

In her kingdom she would sing from sunrise to sunset, on her knees in gravel without food or drink or rest. Here she would sing until the markings were done, the agony in her back her offering to the gods.

She imagines each poke and sting of the needle leeching out remnants of Libitania Desidenius. While she aches to leave the name given to her by her father, it is not who she is. Not anymore. Libitania was built from loss and darkness and shadow, and Erelia will be light. A beacon of hope. A triumphant chant for her followers.

When it is done her back is raw and throbbing, and it takes her a few attempts to rise from the table. She manages to sit up and Valil then offers water, Erelia ever so grateful. Farkas comes and sits next to her, tucking her silver hair behind her pointed ears.

Farkas follows her into the nearby dew sprinkled field, kneeling with her in the grass as she tilted her face up to the moon and sang the final song, the sacred song of her house-hold, the Elven lament she'd owed them for eleven years.

Farkas does not utter a word while she sings, her voice broken and raw. He remains in the field with her until dawn, as permanent as the markings on her back. Intricate details lines of text scrolled over her largest scars, the story of her love and loss now written on her: one line for her parents and brother; one line for Aunt Eleanor; and one line for her court and her people.

On the smaller, shorter scars, were the stories of her parents, and her brother the Snow Prince. Her beloved dead.

No longer will they be locked away in her heart. No longer will she be ashamed.

**~End of Book Two~**


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